Saturday 12th July, 2018
Doing the grocery shopping in Vergt is dh’s task,
mainly because I am cowardly about driving the big car through the narrow
little lanes around here, not to mention parking it in the congested car park
once I get there. In my trusty 14 year-old mini Cooper I'd have no probs, but dh’s car is so much bigger and it is
automatic AND it has all the latest computerised gizmos and gadgets.
I can
drive the mini in my sleep, but just starting and moving off in the new one involves
a set of instructions I ought to know and keep forgetting.
I like shopping in France, because the selection
is different, obviously, and it is a much more leisurely occupation than back
home. That may be to do with the rural location than the French psyche, but you
never quite know if that is the answer. After all, I have never grocery shopped
in Paris or Lyons! I stood in line at the till with 2 items the other day –
bread and two millefeuille – around 11 o’clock and stood there for ages while
every housewife in Vergt did her weekly shop and then stood in the queue patiently
waiting while the lucky person actually going through the till exchanged
pleasantries with the cashier. There were at least six lines and the same was
happening at each. When my turn came after about 20 minutes I stepped forward
with the usual "Bonjour Madam" and put my two items forward.
$4.55 she said, in
French and I checked the numbers on the screen just to be sure I had them right
and then handed her the $5 euros in small change I had laboriously counted out
as I waited.
She quickly gave me back about 40cents and I
picked up my packages and walked away, glad to get away at last. There was an
outcry behind me.
“Madame, madame MADAME!” Oh God, I thought, what have I done
wrong?
It turned out, with much giggling from the young
cashier and the ladies in the queue, that I had walked away without “la difference”
- my change. All 5 cents of it.
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