Suns and Roses

The Square is full of flowers, more massively full of flowers than I've seen in earlier Mays.  There are banks of roses, climbing kiwis, succulents, pond reeds and trays and trays of geraniums and agapanthas and perriwinkles and giant daisies. 

Large iron contraptions in the shape of giant flowers on long stems turn in the breeze beside the carousel. and the terraces are full. 

We retreat to the Elephant where we find L and B sitting in a sunlit concourse at the end of which is a large bay window over looking the small street that leads to the town walls and the Porte d'Aval.  
I suggest they decamp there and wheel Bobby along the corridor.

Outside is all life squished into a narrow street. People pour through the stone arch towards the Square, and people leave with crates of flowers.  We try to guess who the English tourists are (easy), Lizzie identifies families (they all have the same narrow mouths) and then the town band kicks off and leads the Mayor and his Councillors and the fire brigade and all the good citizens who have remembered why we're on holiday beneath us and on towards the war memorial to celebrate the end of the war in Europe. 

I kiss Bobby on his head, tell Lizzie to come to the moulin for lunch and go home to face my school bag which I shoved into a dark corner two weeks ago.