Village Mysteries & the Boulangerie Breakthrough

The sign at the top of the street!

For some time there has been heated debate in our household about the correct spelling and pronounciation of our street name. Even Liz, who has lived here for years pronounces it differently from Antoinette our Yoga Sadist (oops, I meant to say Instructress!!). We thought this very strange and then we found the cause of the problem. The street signs at the top and bottom of our Route Frev(r)uard are spelled differently. Both signs are rusty and well worn. They've been there a while!? Aaah you just gotta love those Frenchies!!

First Village Mystery solved!!

And..at the bottom

The Second Village Mystery

Well this one is a bit tricky. And there's no photos to accompany this part of the blog today. It begins with a confession of "my unkind and unjust" thoughts towards my local Boulangerie, or more specifically the attractive young lady behind the counter.

My misplaced judgement began in December, I think. Given my annoying propensity for rising early, I am inevitably the one who walks down to the village to buy the bread for the day. While we've been trying many different kinds of bread, we particularly like "un boule". It's especially good for making sandwiches with a nice crunchy crust.

On this particular morning, there was only one boule displayed in the window. Using my best french with a nice smile, "bonjour" and plenty of "svp", I asked for the lonely boule! The very attractive lady suddenly leapt to whisk the offending pain (bread) from view. She shook her head and said I couldn't have it because it was "reserve". "Ok, fair enough!" I thought and chose a different bread.

But when the same thing happened the next morning and on and off for the next couple of weeks, I started to get a bit of a complex? One morning there were 2 boules in residence, but one was a little more burnt around the edges than the other. So when the cute little lady reached to give me the burnt one, I risked saying: "Non madam, ce la, svp " pointing to the less burnt boule. And the answer..... "Je desole, mai reserve". That did it! I was thoroughly put out! For the last month I have been surly and sneery with my boulangeraise. Graeme kept telling me that she was always totally delightful when he went for the bread in the morning! (On the 3 ocassions he has made a trip in the morning!)

But today, Graeme and I visited the Boulangerie together around midday, after our french lessons with Liz. I looked like a proper student with French books tucked under my arm. It was not busy and we managed to strike up a little bit of conversation with her. It appears that that magic phrase "Je vien de la Nouvelle Zelande" has worked again! The transformation in her demeanour was nothing short of amazing. We also noticed that there were at least 6 boules in the window, so we have guessed that maybe I am too early in the morning for the fresh ones?! Graeme reckons that she doesn't want to sell me a boule if it isn't fresh. This sounds like a much nicer and fairer assumption. I am looking forward to my next visit with the pretty lady! An exchange of names is next on the list!!