We are back from another evening in the bar and I have decided I must start to capture things as they happen. There are so many great times and they pile on top of each other and I don’t want to forget a single moment.
Today we were in the bar early and started with coffee. Madame glared at us when we made this order. We laughed that is seems as offensive here to order coffee in the late afternoon as to order a beer at 4am in the UK.
We took a seat with me choosing a comfy chair as I have neck and back pain at the moment.
A man and woman who we know well now were working on the new jigsaw.
Three lads in the corner including a John Lennon lookalike were having fun and a little loud and over-excited. They were new to me but clearly they were known in the bar as they kept winding up the other female customer. I told my husband she would win whatever game was being played. All of a sudden, she took perfume out of her bag and sprayed it liberally over the lads. Madame asked if she could have a try. She made the trying on of the perfume a ceremony in itself. Never one to be outshone, Madame then went and woman-handled every male in the place with the exception of my husband to make them all smell of the perfume.
The lads started giving my husband a hard time about not speaking Breton. As he said he has enough of a hard time speaking French without learning what is in effect a totally different language. The lovely thing now is that we are so much a feature in the bar we don’t feel we have to leave if we get a little grief. The lads were young, over-excited by wins on scratch-cards. We can let it go.
I moved over to the jigsaw and managed to put together about 8 bits. Madame will not let us have the picture so we are always in the dark. It is all part of the game!
The patron was busy as he has a restaurant behind the bar and it was clearly busy. Heading down the corridor to the loos, it was so tempting to spy behind the curtain to see what was going on. It was all set out so beautifully with amazing flowers. My husband said at one point her spied all the guests up on a table having their photographs taken. He also said at one point each man was holding a flower presumably ready to give to their ladies.
The personnel in the bar changed as time passed with many regulars coming in and a few new to me faces too. There is now a very old music centre in the corner with loads of LPs. Periodically someone goes and decides what we will be listening to. It is usually a mix of French, English and American pop music which seems to stop in 1979 or so. Lots of the records are quite scratchy but weirdly that just adds to the atmosphere and reminds me of my childhood.
As the dinner draws to a close, a handful of people come through. The patron seats an older man and two young men with us at the huge round table. The older man explains that he is an art teacher and that the men with him are former students. They are playing a game that sits in the bar all the time which involves placing coloured wooden blocks in various places in some order that means you win. I have not tried it yet but people seem to struggle with it. The older man has good English and says how pleased they are to have English people in the bar. We have not met him before but he seems to belong and possibly be a family member as he has an air of authority and ownership about the place. He talks with us about Yorkshire and with my husband about music from the Seventies.
One of the regulars tells my husband to turn the music up. Another couple arrive and start playing games with the huge basket of nuts. Something is always happening which is why you end up staying a bit longer than you intended.
Suddenly the patron delivers a plate with a dessert on it – a tempting concoction of cream sponge and fruit. “It is necessary that you eat this as it if for you and is very special” he says. My husband asks if there has any for him and the patron just looks at him. It appears the cake is just for me. I have heard the term melt in the mouth many times but let me tell you this dessert was the epitome of what that phrase must mean.
I am going to eat cake and let me tell you I won’t be returning home to the UK anytime soon.