The butcher, the baker, the candlestick maker

People often remark that life around these parts is "Just like the UK 50 years ago". Perhaps this is no more than sentimental nostalgia, but there is certainly a quaintness to the way some things are done.

One of the traditions which persists in spite of modern pressures is the statutory noon-to-2pm lunch, which takes some getting used to. Shortly after arriving here, hubby was driving the lanes on some errand or other when he realised he was in need of refreshment and the time was 11.50am. He knew that after noon there would be no shops open, so he pulled over in the next village, where there was a little row of three shops: baker, butcher and small grocer.

He first tried the baker, where a wizened lady aged about 90 appeared from the back at the sound of the door opening. He asked if she had any ready-made sandwiches. She did not, so he said he would take a baguette and try for some ham or similar in one of the other shops. The lady duly wrapped his bread with painstaking care and wished him a cheery farewell and he bobbed into the butcher next door.

Again, the shop was empty when he entered, and this time he had a wait of a couple of minutes before there was movement from the back and eventually in shuffled ... the same lady. With ne'er a flicker of recognition in her demeanour, she explained apologetically that she didn't have any ham available. Hubby suggested that he would try the grocer and she agreed this might be a good plan.

So, into the next shop, where there was also no sign of life. After a slightly longer wait, he was a bit dumbfounded to be greeted once more by the very same old lady. Again, she behaved as though she had never laid eyes on him before, and he had to repeat the entire conversation before obtaining a couple of slices of ham.

Well, he got his lunch eventually, but you do have to learn not to be in a rush.