France II: Remembrance of Drinks Past
Thanks, AltitudeZero, for reminding me of this picture (or at least a less processed version of it) of me. Drinks are different in France. Pastis while gazing on, with friends, at the fine women of Toulouse is hard to beat, but even the little mid-afternoon coffees of St Gery's Le Chabrot - served with a grumpy humpf, a mournful half-sugar cube, and, two-to-one will get spilt on your Billingham camera bag - are something of a little treat.
And then there is glistening, slightly bubbly, yeasty beer like Leffe, so overpriced in England but so much an incidental feature of a hot day in France, like punctuation:
Even not terribly interesting drinks, like those served in a once-interesting Indian restaurant, become more palatable as the day grows darker, and cooler, and the streets come alive with people and conversation, take on a tiny magic: