The wonders of Paul My first day

I ordered a coffee and a spinach and salmon quiche. I immediately chatted to the manager (a young italian with braided hair) and told him where i was from and that he should know this was my favourite patisserie. He beamed and after a little chat left me to indulge in my first good meal since leaving home. I bought a few interesting cotton bags and thought (!!!) one of them would be good to bring any excess baggage back home!! Little did I realize what excess baggage I would be accumulating.

Finally after settling myself into the basement room (not quite as nice as the the one upstairs!) and saying farewell to Paul, who rode off on his bicycle, his t shirt and sandles slapping in the breeze, I plotted what i would do for the rest of the day.

Well i was up and down the high street getting to know my surrounds. These were such shops as Waterfords Book shop (bought a new indian cookery book and a novel), Gap (3 long sleeved t shirts), facial products (Molton Brown) and this all within the first 2 or 3 hours of having arrived!!.But what fun I was already having.

I returned to Trellis cottage and had a little rest (actually exhausted after the flight and excitement of being in London). Jean Wild (the resident owner) suddenly burst through the door. she is 70 ish, over tanned with wild grey hair. She is not a small woman. She bustled upstairs, and began squealing and squeaking over a broken lamp. The picture I had in my mind of a demure slim cultured woman was immediately shattered. She actually reminded me of an old bag lady and i couldnt reconcile the amazing art and artifacts in the house with this loud uncouth personality. She was a real character though and we were to have a few laughs while I was there.

Hungry I ventured out again to a place which Jean recommended (?) called Cage Imaginaire. It seemed to be a delightful little French Restaurant (soft candlelight,french music, white table ware) down a cobbled road near to my cottage. I seemed to be the only person eating there, which seemed very strange especially as I was alone. The manager was a very pleasant young man. However he seemed to think I wanted company and hung around chatting. Eventually I was left to write in my diary and contemplate my surrounds. I was hoping my dover sole meunier was going to be fresh and tasty. But it wasn't. It was not fresh and was drowned in butter and large chunks of parsley. I did mention that it wasn't fresh but was assured it was!! I wasnt in the mood to argue. The dessert, caramelized bananas in crepes, was pleasant if not a marvel of tastes. Coffee o.k.
I concluded that this little place was really a tourist trap. 1 other table was occupied!

I walked back to the cottage (feeling quite safe to walk about alone at night) and retired for the night.