Social butterfly

Last weekend was quite the contradiction to what has become my solitary daily routine of walking, writing and reading and drinking endless cups of tea. One that started with an invitation to join Monica at friends on Saturday afternoon. Happily I accepted, eager to meet people but I was feeling a bit out of my league when I walked in to this spread...

they do take this quite seriously...

But after a rousting hour and a half of Petanque, we were frozen and ready for serious libation and sweets.

Jean-Claude explaining the finer points to Monica.

I learned the next day that the quiet kick-ass Petanque player was the mayor. I learned this when I arrived at the town fete. He addressed the the small group of about 40 that is the winter population of Roquessels. We then for the next 4 hours ate and drank and laughed (sometimes I even knew what was funny) I quite enjoy just watching this beautiful language of the face, voice and hands. I met almost everyone. They are very kind, all wanting to know why would a woman come here alone, in the winter? I stumbled through that answer as I stumble through most conversations. 

Soon I walked home through the quiet village, the wind easing as I ducked into the alley that leads to 1 Place du Maréchal, my footsteps echoing on cold stone. I had settled in with strong tea and a much awaited call to my brother when there was an insistent ringing of my little bell and a knocking on the outside gate. It was my new friend Barry, sent by his lovely wife Angel imploring that I join them for a dinner party. Of course I went, shamelessly hanging up on my dear brother and returning home about midnight full of beautiful food, conversation, great local wine and bonhomie.

My new friends, Barry, Angel and Arlett.