Sultan in Narbonne

This morning took me into Narbonne the oldest town in South West France and dating back to 118BC. It was a beautiful warm October morning and the Thursday market was in full swing. Amid the bustle of the stalls selling their array of wares it was not hard to imagine the marching feet of the Centurians as they clattered up and down the streets of this handsome Southern town just an hour away from the Spanish border and nestling slightly inland from the Mediterranean beaches. Apparently it suffered badly during the Middle Ages, not least of all from the plague and not really picking up until the 1800's when the railway arrived and the wine industry took off.

I happily began to mingle amongst the stalls wishing that His Lordship, complete with funds, had not strayed off. My eye's alighted on the most mouth watering display of quilted bed covers. I'm besotted by material and my heart sank as I noted the prices. Bargain is not a word I use lightly, but oh dear, they were 70 euros for two which made the ones I had bought for Le Chateau look somewhat expensive. His Lordship who by this time had caught up with me noticed my glum face. We adjourned to a small cafe where we met up with our two dear friends, the ageless Pierre and his gorgeous Swedish wife Lisa. After a chilled beer watching the world go by and becoming soporific in the sun I was cheered by the small glimmer of realization that they were not as divine as my classic quilted toile de jouy covers after all.

But really the most heartening and splendid sight this morning was the meeting of Sultan who appeared suddenly from a smart French blue front door. As Great Dane's go he was most noble. Apparently he was eleven years old and came from Australia where his delightful owner explained he was hoping to return soon. I had to take his picture of course, for surely he was the most handsome chap in France I had had the pleasure of meeting for a very long while.