Monday, 21 July 2014

My French Life is a lighthearted look at, you guessed it, living in France.


The bakers' (100 short yards from my door), is intent on staying open, in the face of enormous supermarket competition.  Yesterday, a man-sized blackboard, perched intrusively on the cobbled step just outside the entrance, announced the latest cunning offer:

3 cormillonnes achetées 1 offerte!

I slipped past, greeting my warmly dressed fellow customers, noting their various reactions to my shorts and tee-shirt, taking their scepticism of my suspect pronunciation on the chin, and prepared to ask for two of these crusty, grainy, wholesome baguettes.  How was it that I ended up coming out with four?  Outside the shop, having wished everyone a pleasant day, I wondered whether I had finally lost my marbles, and, more usefully, whether I had any butter in the house.

On the way back home, I re-enacted the conversation, deciding that the baker's wife, with her Alan Sugar eyes, was to blame for the bready bulge under my arm.  Never mind, I would freeze two and  bake them (inevitably to a crisp) when required, in the blast furnace that passes for my oven. Smoke rose alluringly in my worn-out imagination.

The baker is laughing - ha!  Sales are up - early retirement beckons.  

But what of his gullible, stodged-up customer?

Easy.  Next day, I send my husband, who is immune to special offers.  He comes back with the requisite number of baguettes, plus a selection of cakes and pastries.

Doh, and doughnuts! 

'Four baguettes!'

1 comment:

  1. Haha, the wily ways of the French boulanger :) Love it!