Sitting on a bench, in a French village, enjoying the sunshine and indulging in a little hot gossip. I found these ladies-left– on https://uk.pinterest.com/goleuddydd/old-ladies/
I don’t feel that I can post photos of my own French neighbours without formally seeking their permissions. I will, next time we are there and it’s warm enough to fetch the old ladies out,i.e in the balmy 30’s at least.
Last year I was cordially invited to join the matriarchs on their favourite bench, at the end of our street. I was enormously flattered and honoured and have been dining out on this anecdote since.
It’s not just a great place to catch up; on different evenings you may find someone reading, knitting or preparing a basket of vegetables. There is an informal book swapping meet ( my oldest neighbour contributes Proust, Balzac, Flaubert & Voltaire) Sometimes gentlemen are permitted to join us, if they are sufficiently amusing and entertaining. It’s all out there if you want it, and no obligation if you don’t.
This socialising is the glue that helps hold this community together. Yet no-one invades your space unless you invite them. How very civilised.
The village is so quiet and the occupants so well mannered that, back in your own house, it feels totally private. Except when you are being WATCHED- in this case by a nutty cat…..
Well, I hope it’s a cat.