Round Two in the Brasserie Bout

Life in a rural French village takes on a simple cadence. Nothing happens in a hurry. Each slow day is punctuated by the twice daily walk to the boulangerie to collect the baguette(s) for the day's meals. Every time you pass another person on the street, you must greet them with the customary "Bonjour". The passing of each hour is acknowledged by the chiming of the church bell. All around you, the process of decay is working inexorably to ensure that all the buildings are steadily working their way towards inevitable oblivion. This does not seem to worry anyone one bit.

Yesterday we decided to embrace another village custom by visiting the local brasserie (bar) to enjoy a cup of coffee. It turned out to be an interesting, but not very pleasant experience. The guy behind the bar would rate as the most unfriendly Frenchman I have ever had the misfortune to meet. When we tried to order our drinks, we were met by a grunt and a shake of the head. It was very obvious that we were not welcome.

But today was a brand new day. We decided to give the guy another chance to redeem himself. Equipped with our very best smiles, Maggie and I entered the bar and ordered one hot chocolate and one coffee. It couldn't be simpler. Our order was met with another grunt. Not a promising sign.

He turned his back and fiddled with the machine, eventually handing me a half filled cup of tepid "hot" chocolate. There was about as much drink as would fill a small egg cup. It was not a good start. Maggie fared a little better, getting about 3/4 of a cup of coffee.

I looked around the room and noticed that he had some chocolate croissants in a basket. Thinking that it might cheer him up if I added to my purchase I timidly asked for a "Pain chocolate, s'il vous plait". He looked at me in disgust and grunted, (I am not joking, that was exactly what he did).
I repeated my request, only to be met by an even ruder grunt. If I was going to get my chocolate croissant, I would have to get it myself. So that is what I did. I walked across the room and picked one out of his basket.

When I sat down outside to drink the diminutive hot chocolate and eat the croissant, I realised that I had made yet another mistake - the croissant was dry and stale. It did help me reach another decision. For the remainder of our time in Vermenton, I would never enter that terrible place again.

Fortunately, there is another Cafe in the town, so that is where we will go tomorrow.

Later in the day Maggie and I enjoyed another lovely walk alongside the river and through the Patrice Gay Boulodrome. The afternoon sun made the walk quite warm, and we were glad when we reached the comparative coolness of the millhouse.Read more