The things people don't want

Vide grenier this morning in our local town. We went early - with Mr B due back for lunch - so were there when all the best stuff was available. Like this classy and thoughtful present for a friend... (It is not classy, but it is thoughtful in the sense that I saw it, laughed and thought of this friend.) It may be unveiled in all its glory in a later blip, but I don't want to spoil the surprise - I may have to wait until December to deliver it.

The kids were remarkably restrained at the vide grenier - and amazing no cuddly toys were even suggested. Lots of our neighbours were there, including one who was selling on behalf of our school. I had given her a bunch of books in English and she reported that they were selling like hot cakes. While I was there, a chap arrived, chose one of my books and bought it - and of course my neighbour pointed out that I was the one who'd provided the books. So we fell into conversation and as chance would have it he is a Geordie too (though much more obviously than me despite having lived in France for 25 years). I have been invited to his building site - where he and his young family are living in a yurt - and will certainly do so. A lot of the British folk I meet down here* I am happy to see occasionally - for a chat if we meet in town - but I take the view that if I would not choose to be friends with them back in Britain, why would I be here? Anyway, this chap seemed like someone I'd like to know more about. Maybe I'll blip his yurt one day.

Anyway, I've written too much and haven't even got to lunchtime yet. Mr B arrived back, we ate outside, I was overcome by tiredness and rosé and had a little nap, then there was a roast duck dinner, some tv and gossip catch up and Claret-fuelled sleep. A very short Mr B weekend for us.

*SW France blipfolk obviously excluded by virtue of all being lovely - if only they all lived in my local town.