Le café la pluie

Wednesday again. Should be Malaucène but the threatened rain came and by departure time it was pouring down. I’d already been out at 7.30 to get bread before the Soviet style queues began outside Mme Moulin’s. At that time of the morning it is delivery trucks and I was almost despatched by Brake France turning unexpectedly left round the square. And, of course, the first signs of La Fête…this weekend. Bollards being removed, sinister blank sided trucks lurking ready to spring open to reveal gaudy horrors.

So we went to Vaison for cash then eschewed the market, instead zooming up through mist and downpour to Bédoin via Road Runner. We have not seen him yet, having been unable to go up there for the Tour. But oh! what is this - Road Runner is now a Poodle, complete with top knot, patriotic sashes and glaring red eyes. Parcs et Jardins have had a lot of fun this time. Chapeau!

On to Bédoin, rain now pretty heavy. We sloshed down the main street in search of a traiteur but none to be had anymore. There used to be a really good one. Ah well, never mind, instead we had a couple of  g cs in Le Petit Comptoir where once again the milk came separately.  Is this a new trend? As we supped, our ears were shattered by the Circus Van hooting and skirling up and down, and on the way out of town, taking up the whole of the parking fields, was the Cirque itself all garish red and yellow. No traiteur in Caromb either - it was looking horribly like it might have to be beans on toast - but we completed our circuit round the hills, returning to where I should have gone first - Mr Bonfils of Sablet! Supplies obtained.