The enclave was soon behind me. I was back in France. And much happier. St Pierre-de-Plesguen is a pleasant enough place. The usual coiffeurs, bar tabacs, pharmacies, and pâtisseries of course. But otherwise unremarkable. It had started innocently enough. Stopping on the edge of the village to check the map, a white haired man came over to see if I needed help. He was curious. I explained about my venture, exchanged a few pleasantries and then we parted.
A little while later, as I sat relaxing in the village square, he reappeared, beckoning me over to the already familiar patisserie. I followed. He insisted on buying me a huge piece of gateaux. Accepting the gift graciously, I shook his hand warmly and left. It was soon clear that he was telling everyone in the square of my venture. A crowd was beginning to gather. I smiled, explained as succinctly as I could – ’Les Anglais!’ – added a few ’au revoirs’ and continued on my journey.
More free food- are you sure someone has pinned a notice on your back saying how hungry you are!!! Joking aprt it is pleasantly reassuring about French hospitality to the English.