|they do take this quite seriously...|
|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.|