Sunday, September 23, 2012
The croissant feud.
The official start of the hunting season . Farmers and their dogs converge from miles around . By late morning the village green covered with battered vans and equally battered tractors. I count 53 before giving up. Amid much back slapping and laughter the farmers head into the salle des fetes for a convivial glass of armagnac ... or two. Outside, in the shade of the plane trees, the dogs wait patiently. The high point in the canine calendar . Freedom after six months of being cooped up at home . At noon the farmers reappear and vans, tractors and well looked after dogs process, slowly, along the lane. By this stage the excited dogs are in full voice.
In the little market town the battle of the bakers continues. Someone telephoned the ' incomer ' to ask if he would make an extra sixty croissants for a wedding. He did. No one came to collect them and the number he had been given turned out to be disconnected. Foul play is suspected. Relations between the two establishments have deteriorated yet further.