Legends from our own lunchtimes

Thursday, August 14, 2014

This little piggy went to market.

Wednesday is market day in Châlons, and there’s a splendid and somewhat ancient market building which probably had we not been there this morning, would have been bustling with farmers offering fresh produce to the throngs of customers flocking in from the surrounding neighbourhoods.   

We thought it prudent to allow a few hours for the crowds to thin a bit, so roused ourselves around nine, fortified ourselves with coffee before braving the chill and the rain and quietly so as not to wake the rest of the sleeping town, ambled through its streets.  Even at that late hour the market place and the building itself barely showed any signs of life.   Many of the vacant counters displayed simple apologies advising that the stall holders would be late this month, and may not actually be here at all next month either for that matter as they’d gone to visit someone in Australia or Africa or some other far flung and no less exotic continent.

Thankfully enough traders actually turned up to address our simple needs, so there is little chance of us contracting scurvy, at least on the next leg of the voyage.


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