We have been in a village, connected to my husband's family, in the south of France for almost a week now. We have no internet in the house, so I am sitting on a stone bench outside my brother-in-law's house borrowing his connection. It is Sunday noon; I've just been to the village shop to buy some yogurt, pears, tomatoes and pate to keep us going until Tuesday when the shop will open again. And also the paper, Le Monde.
The café cum shop was busy: a couple of men sitting at the counter talking with the cafe owner and his wife, more outside on the terrace, and several of us in the grocery-magazine-newspaper section, buying provisions, or just looking at the wine selection. Now I am going to trek back down hill and think about lunch.