Spicy

The spice stall at the market in Lézignan is always a cheery sight, even on a dull day. The spice lady weighs her wares on a scale with tiny brass weights, packaging them in small paper bags with the spice name carefully written on them. I only bought Quatre-épices today. As well as "standard" spices she has a wide range of flavoured salts and spice mixes, all displayed in these neatly turned-down bags.

Other news: thanks very much to MsQuizzical2, who identified yesterday's butterfly for me -- it's a mallow skipper, definitely a new one on me. Edit: or maybe a tufted marbled skipper, according to chrisA.

Yesterday evening, we went to see Gemma Bovery, a film based on Posy Simmonds' graphic novel, in turn based on Emma Bovary. It was OK, and quite amusing in places, although Fabrice Luchini (one of my favourite actors) was under-employed, and cast against type as a baker in rural Normandy. Yet again we puzzled over why, in films, when people are having passionate sex, they will always break off to answer a ringing phone. Does anyone do that in real life? Other than on-call firefighters or doctors?