Twice before we have visited the village of Savoyeux, walking past the Saboteur's studio, past the signs proclaiming it as is usually the case, "Open on some day other than the one on which you have arrived."
Imagine our surprise therefore, when on this occasion there was no sign, just an open door inviting us to wander within. For those who may not be aware, a saboteur is not some sort of stealthy person sneaking around blowing up railway bridges in the middle of the night, but a maker of sabots; traditional wooden shoes.
As it turns out the Saboteur of Savoyeux is a charming youngish mother of six, who took some pains to explain in graphic sign language that her husband and the father of her brood had done a bunk, {may his gum boots get stuck in the mud!} leaving her to work alone in her studio, turning out wooden sabots clearly a little faster than they were required, knitting their liners from Angora she had spun and died, after plucking it from her goats and rabbits.
We spoke at length about many things, or at least we think it was many things as the conversation did become a little incomprehensible for a time in the middle, but in all of that we never did find a way of asking how she came to be wearing stilettos in her workshop.
I suspect the answer to that mystery will wait until next we pass on a day when the studio is open.
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