Yes, yet another market, this time a Sunday market.
We had more rain overnight so I was glad I found firmer ground to park the car on at the side of our pitch. Somehow, between spells of rain on the roof,we heard an owl calling.
We found a parking spot in Meze which gave us a bit of a leg stretch to get to market itself. If you are ever unsure where a market might be in a town, just follow the earlier shoppers carrying their purchases back. You’ll soo find it.
We did find it and it was bustling. There was what we call a spinning chicken vendor and a spot of rotisseried chicken would make a splendid lunch. He just sold his last poulet jaune at €11 so we went for a poulet fermiere at €16.50 which, frankly, is what we usually buy. Why we were trying to be cheapskates I’m not sure.
We happened across another stall that was selling Cèpes and Girolles mushrooms for 10 each bowl. Both of these fungi are highly prized so, since we were in our last week with money to spare, we lashed out on a bowl of Cèpes for one of Francine’s splendid omelettes.
Other than some bread, that was about it. We returned for some spinning chicken.
We did try a wander to walk off lunch but, alas, the track was way too muddy after our second spell of overnight rain so we gave up and spent a lazy afternoon.
The campsite has a resident cat. It’s a very handsome cat (though all cats are wildlife murderers) but it keeps yowling. Francine calls it shouting. It is never quiet for more than a couple of minutes and the sound carries over most of the campsite. Here it is mid-yowl. It doesn’t appear to want fuss; quite the opposite so Francine has formed the opinion that it simply doesn’t like people.
The cat’s in the wrong habitat, if that’s the case.
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