There is almost nothing I love more than pottering around the French markets early in the morning. Our market ritual starts early to avoid the crowds and heat, and almost always involves a stint at a street side cafe for coffee (or tea in my case) and croissants.
French markets are wonderful, full of life and colour. I managed a market pretty much every morning that we were there. I was even given an extra Birthday treat by my husband who stayed at home with the boys so that my Ma and I could go to Le Bugue market together.
We meandered through the market, chatting to people she knows, trying on armfuls of brightly coloured dresses, drooling over the beautiful quilted bedspreads so common in this region, being offered tastes of cheeses and meats and saucisson and being spoken to in French and English and Dutch, sometimes by the same person.
It was as perfect a morning as I could imagine.
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