back to shedland...

One day I will have the time to look at lots of other blogs to see what a blog should be like...

But today it was off to Marmande, to take pa-in-law to an appointment, then a chance to shop for 2 items. Once again I trawle up & down the Bordeaux Road on Marmande's shedland, kerb-crawling with all the other punters who are on the look-out for consumer goods. Those of you who have had my conventional RRs e-mailed in the past will know that many French shopping areas are strung along arterial roads in aluminium sheds, and we still struggle to work out what some of them contain. Since becoming a grandmother I discover that 'Aubert' is a sort of Mothercare. 'Litomania' has beds &, apart from supermarkets is the only place in which I've found bedding. Hence my affection for The White Company & its over-priced mail-order service. Le Mutant is a meat supermarket, hmmm...

Today's futile quest was for moisture lotion. After happily using it for firtyumpty years, I am no longer able to find Almay lotion, so taking my last precious bottle for reference, I venture into a 'parapharmacie'. A size zero 17-year old in a starched white coat hears me out, looks at my bottle & indicates three products. Avène is made from spa water & a bottle 1/5 of the size of mine costs twice as much. Not being a believer in water being anything other than H2O, I move on to Caudelie, which is made from the remains of squished grapes. After the harvest, vignerons leave piles of these at special roadside points where the Min of Ag picks them up & turns them into industrial alcohol; they smell appalling. I pass on to Roc, again, a minute tube costs far more per centilitre than I am used to paying - I am going to have to grow old more gracefully. I show my teeth & escape in search of new baskets.

Sport 2000, thank goodness for an unambiguous shop name. 1 pair Reeboks, perfect fit, très confortable, parfait, succès! First decent pair I've had for ages despite years of step etc. Praps now I'll finally lose some pounds? Now I have good baskets? ( Ssh. Don't tell anyone. They're for line-dancing.) The French LOve line-dancing. I did go to a Guingette ( a dance studio,) in a shed on the Bordeaux Road, where 2 excellent teachers encouraged paysans, femmes de menagère & smooth young men, who must have worn sharp suiting during the day, to sailor-step & coaster-step and every one slung thumbs into big buckled belts that held up straight jeans that covered the tops of their studded cowboy boots. Some even wore hats. And the dancing was brilliant, all pas chassé-ing & quarter turning in perfect unison while the studs flashed.
Now I just enjoy myself in the village hall at Agnac, being taught by an enthusiastic amateur along with a lot of French & English ladies in T-shirts & cardigans, & 3, occasionally 4, men. There were 5, but Gerard, an ex-Parisian policeman, gave up. Sometimes, someone will sport a nattily knotted neckerchief, & several of us wear jeans, but except for Pauline who likes to clack her heels, we favour trainers. The floor is slippery & nobody wants to break a hip!!

Our favourite shed is a Troc. Now what do you think a Troc is? Answers on an e-mail please, I'll tell you another time...