Sketches of a village en fête

Late morning and I'm lucky to find a table on the terrasse at Atmos.  Today the town smells of old tractor fuel, roast chestnuts, horse dung and toffee apples.  Apples are what are being celebrated.  They are strung between the pillars of the couverts, they've been rubber banded onto structures around the square.  People buy 2 kilo nets of them and carry them in their arms like new born babies.  I drink my coffee, smoke my cigarette and watch.  Marcel is here with his clogs and his accordion, a little girl with a balloon twisted into a sausage dog reacts to one of it's little fat legs popping by simultaneously covering her ears and crying real tears.  Thierry comes out from betting on the horses and asks me for a light.  Since he's found out he's got a heart problem he's taken up smoking.