Monday, March 12, 2018

Entitlement.


The PONs are up and out early in readiness for the best day ever. Someone has flipped a switch and the cold wet weather has given way to blue skies and sunshine. The local hunters are out in force driving their white vans at break neck speed up and down the lane. No one ( bar some British politicians) has a French hunters arrogant '' I'll do what I like " sense of entitlement.


The daughter of one of the local hunters is getting married. When the first guests arrive the proud father is busy dismembering a deer carcass on a stainless steel table at the back of the village hall. He attends the ceremony in the town hall in his hunting gear. Steel toed boots, camouflage trousers and red and black check shirt. It should be noted that in deference to the brides perfect day he has ditched his fluorescent orange hunting vest and cap. After the civil ceremony in the Mairie the guests traipse across the grass to the church for a religious 'blessing'. The two tykes, who have been practising the trombone for the last three months, play for the bridal couple. The tune is not immediately recognizable. It is however delivered with gusto. The tykes mother beams.


Angus think dismembering a deer carcass next to the wedding guests chicken vol au vents probably breaks every health and hygiene rule in the book. He is also amazed by the behaviour of the two tykes who, having finished their trombone fanfare, climb on their rasping mopeds and do wheelies on the churchyard gravel. No one seems in the slightest bit bothered. This may in part be due to the priest who is in his mid-30's, accompanies the hymns with  a guitar and ( from the laughter that drifts across to The Rickety Old Farmhouse ) tells a lot of jokes .


Sophie gets taken for a walk to see what's going on. She meets some red and white balloons attached to a pole. The family diva is uncertain what to make of them and quickly turns away. The balloons were supposed to come in three colours ; blue, white and red but someone has tied all the blue ones to the village hall rafters leaving the red and white ones to decorate the village green.


Sophie leads me home - and away from the balloons  - at a rapid pace.


5 comments:

WFT Nobby said...

Oh no. Somehow I imagined your village in France profonde might be free of 'trendy vicar' syndrome...

Susan said...

Our priest plays the guitar too. Our church, despite being an abbey, doesn't have an organ, so it's that or a cappella I guess.

Angus said...

The village church has an organ. Only problem is it's been home for generations of village pigeons.

Taste of France said...

That could be interesting...

Yamini MacLean said...

Hari OM
I am continually amazed at how un-boring life can be in the depths of France... YAM xx