Sign of the Times

 

The jaunty strains of an accordion tune, a shanty to judge by its rhythm, lure me towards a cobbled alley. In a sign of our times, the busker has her hat at her feet and a mask upon her face.

The alley opens onto a market square, overlooked by well groomed stone built shops with apartments set above them. 

The quadrangle, which they form, is, almost completely, roofed over by myriad white awnings. They shade wooden trestle table stalls, piled with all manner of merchandise. 

All remaining space is filled by jostling milling crowds. The majority wear masks, as they squeeze and elbow their way among the wares. No quarter is given - and no regard is shown for social distancing. For the first time on this cruise, I feel that I am at risk.

I withdraw. Gradually the crowds thin.

My feeling of danger does not dissipate, until I reach the fresh air and space of the harbour. Sit a while in the security of Stargazer's cockpit.

I take stock of our stores. It is time for more than a baguette run. I set off to the top of the town, in search of the Carrefour Drive (with an accute accent on the final e). The largest size of store - they ascend from (Cite, through Market to Drive).

I have discovered that, in a happier sign of the times, veggie food has become mainstream in France. At least if you shop in the larger Carrefour's. I return with baskets filled with the usual selection of cheeses, fresh fruit and vegetables - and supplemented by falafel a variety of savoury tartes and some fresh filled tortellini.

High water has been and gone. More boats have arrived and few have left. Despite our sheltered inland position, twenty five to thirty knots of breeze pummels the port. As thunder clouds pass, whistling gusts set lines groaning and send craft staggering. Across the harbour the talk is of shoreside walks - to pass the time agreeably, whilst this deep low rumbles through.