Le Frere Dodgy

The Seillans Sunday markets were announced by the bells of St Leger. "Bong" x 8!" Superb antiques and object d'art handed down from generation to generation were being displayed on hand woven tapestries, just not in Seillans!

Orange plastic light fittings (incomplete) stood alongside dust encrusted leather covered water bottles. Pith and metal GI helmets lay on a canvas sheet next to a dubious officer's cap (Vichy?) and assorted pieces of uniform in leather and webbing. Very handy if you were going to fight WWII again. A selection of dodgy vinyl ep's featuring long forgotten French chanteuses (any Germaine Montero fans out there?) were on offer along with the Braveheart soundtrack LP.

The purveyors of these treasures were a motley, if mildly enthustiastic mob. Anyone expecting Gallic bartering and expressive hand and face gestures will need to return next week. The increasing heat and sublime setting with view over the Var Valley would make most treasure hunters quite soporific. However, there were bargains to be had including a small ceramic flowered teapot and a first edition, second impression of Jessica Mitford's "Hons and Rebels". Without wishing to haggle, I handed over €20 to cover the hardback's €8 price tag. Now, maybe it was the sun, or perhaps he hadn't previously seen a note of such denomination, but change of €2 provoked my response. Opening the book, I pointed at the price and indicated I had given him twenty. He responded "Je desolee, Monsieur!" and gave me another ten euros. A bargain is a bargain only if the right price is attained.

A cobwebbed wind-up turntable of uncertain vintage would probably be the dream find of anyone interested in Steampunk memorabilia, but where would you get replacement needles? A table covered in mismatched crockery and pastis glasses was guarded by a box of discarded Action figures all struggling to escape their cardboard prison. Although a particularly fierce lime vinyl covered gorilla roared his terrible roar, my money was on an ersatz Voltran, Master of the Universe!

Living directly opposite Seillans entertainment complex i.e the car park/boule court has its advantages. It is therefore probably churlish of me to complain, but whose permission was sought to stage the annual two day St Cyr et St Leger fete? Certainly not moi! Having spent innumerable hours filling the coffers of Vinci, France's private enterprise toll extractors, we did not deserve to return home from the Languedoc to find all the car parking spaces taken by out-of-town merrymakers. Nursing a bowl of spaghetti topped by Paulette's superb tomato sauce, I walked up the stairs to be assaulted by the caterwauling of a Provençal Tom Jones. Backed by a massive karaoke system Le Tom and his female backing duo reached into the depths of karaoke hell and assaulted my finely wrought appreciation of modern music.

Interestingly garbed merry makers rocked, rolled and tangoed to Hound Dog, Johnny B Goode and a selection of presumably Johnny Halliday's hits! Whoever sang these songs le roc was obviously well known as the rollicking crowd of French baby boomers sang loudly along! Curfew? What curfew? A pair of Municipal police guarded Stade Seillans ensuring nobody left, or slept, before the appointed closing time of very late o'clock!