Our host has an uncanny resemblance to Herbert Lom and I find this quite distracting as I eat my breakfast every day.
As we had made very little forward provision for our accommodation, we had to move rooms this morning, up to the third floor. When I had finished packing my stuff Janet was fairly keen to have a clear run at doing her stuff without me tapping my fingers and cracking my finger joints so I went out to look at what was happening in the square. It was very interesting to look at the enormous street market which was getting itself established.
Arras Saturday Street Market
The stalls contained all manner of things from small home grown vegetable and home made sausage stalls to large outfits selling meat, cheese, clothing etc. A wonderfully colourful sight with thousands of people cramming into the square and little roads which run from it.
Janet as Juliet peering at me
We had been told by a laundrette person in Dover that some Australians had not been able to find a laundrette in France and so had had to wait until they got to Blighty to wash their clothes. Well, we have seen loads of the things in every town. This morning we set of eagerly towards one of these frequent laundrettes to get our smalls and bigs clean.
I’m not too sure from where France gets its reputation for good regional food. In every town and village we have visited so far getting a plate of food without a massive portion of chips has been impossible. Last night the starter was a bowl of crudities so the first veg of this leg of the trip was eagerly devoured. We spent part of this afternoon in the tourist office trying to find out about the next leg of our trip. The girl behind the counter suggested that there were only fields where we want to go. As we came and went into the tourist office we saw two wedding parties going in and coming out of the registry office. Quite nice to think that they and we all share the same anniversary date.
A high spot was a trip up the Beffroi on the Mairie. One ascends partly in a lift and then up some open stairs which then finally open out onto a narrow balcony with a stone parapet. The views over Arras are wonderful from this point. I had a squeak of surprise when a local mother raised her child up to the parapet so that he could look over the top.
In order to avoid chips, tonight we ate a pizza. One would imagine that a pizza would taste the same wherever made but tonight’s pizza was definitely French.