Monday, December 3, 2012
You think it can't get any odder. Then ....
You think that it can't get any odder. Then it does.
Sunday lunchtime. The bell at the gate rings. It's the Very Old Farmer accompanied by a very tall, bearded young man in a herringbone coat.
The Very Old Farmer only has his top teeth in. This makes understanding what he says somewhat difficult . It seems the tall young man is an artist and is having an exhibition of his latest work in a neighbouring town.
The tall young man, who has a full set of teeth and is therefore easier to understand, hands me an invitation. '' I make heads out of hair ". He turns the invitation over and points to a photograph of a head made out of hair. Angus is lost for words.
'' Will we see you at the opening ? " asks the tall bearded young man . ' You can be almost sure of it ' I reply , untruthfully. '' My mate here will be coming " says the young man pointing with his left thumb at the Very Old Farmer. The thought of the Very Old Farmer visiting any art gallery strains the bounds of credulity. I smile. They wander off down the lane. What an unusual friendship. How did they meet ?
'Who was that at the door ?' says ' the font '. '' Just a man who makes heads out of hair ".
Down into town for the morning croissants. The children scurrying off to school. A snowman in green wellington boots says hello to me outside the fruit shop.
Life in France profonde.