Hi gals I'm back. Back from ten fabulous days in the west of France, where the sun shone, the wine flowed and the cheese and cakes were to die for!
I've got loads of photos for you, so i thought today we'd do a tour of the brocanting. I was lucky enough to get to four Vide Grenier (literal translation is 'Empty attic') while I was there and saw all sorts of things on offer;
In villages set out over every street. Tables groaning with one man's junk and anothers treasure. Okay, sometimes there was a wee bit of imagination required to get from one category to the other, but everything must have been loved at sometime.
Old cottons and silks in worn paper boxes. Pretty enough as a display in it's own right. They have no need to be used again, just admired for their aged perfection and memories of the past.
In the northern market gypsies selling springtime Muguet (lilly of the valley), the flower of luck.
A nut seller with old still gathers a crowd as he scoops up hot roasted nuts and serves them in paper cones.
Pet rabbits (I hope) looking for a new home.
Linens, oh such beautiful linens. Sheets, napkins, table cloths, tranchons, mantle cloths and grain sacks. Everything carefully embroidered by a hand so many years ago. You could buy so many beautiful pieces. I brought back a few treasures for my own linen collection, little pieces to jog the memory and awaken the senses.
Sustenance in the form of moules and frites, sandwiches and rose wine. Makeshift cafes and bars, chat and people with goodies to show to friends and tales to tell of bargains and searches.
Huge pots of geraniums for sale. Buy a whole garden at once.
Sell it with flowers! A bicycle with its plastic posy, what a perfect touch.
Tiny pots on strings hanging from a farm cart. anything and everything goes.
The family dog looks down from his window. "What's happening on my street?". Is he looking longingly at all the food that passes, or has his owner sold off his toys and maybe a favourite chair?
And the last fair, sunshine and friends in Hagetmau. More goodies, more bargains, more fun, more smiles.
Sundays in summer, France at her countryside best.
So here I am back in Scotland, the rain lashes off the window. An old red enamel teapot sits happily on the Aga, a mere look floods me with memories of my few days in the sun.