Lunch for the old folks

Representing about a quarter of the population of the commune on Sunday, we were 70 or so old folks at three long tables, plus "dignitaries" and servers. In a nice contrast to The Netherlands, we were among the taller people there. Everyone seemed to know each other already, and we supposed they more or less grew up together, since few of them seemed to be outsiders. There was one black person there, but we didn't manage to get a seat nearby, so we don't know his story. We met an ex-mayor, who must be at least two mayors back, because we've met the previous mayor while arranging permits for some of the work on the house. The first question people asked was to which hameau we belonged. Then names. We were surprised that people generally called each other by their first names, where we expected that they would continue to be formal with Monsieur et Madame. Maybe it's OK for old geezers to be familiar.

We sat with Paulette, a lovely lady of 80+, with a grandson studying in Los Angeles. Roland, who later sang for the crowd appeared to sit with us. We suspect the maire may have sent him our way, since he spoke a bit of English. We tried to keep to French, but sometimes it was hard, especially since a roomful of almost 100 people talking can be QUITE LOUD. (So loud that Kaye turned down her hearing aids.)

The meal itself was quite nice (catered), but there was much too much to eat. A sack of chocolates stood by each place setting. There were some nice nibbles for a starter, a mini-quiche, a prune wrapped in bacon, a tiny sausage wrapped in dough, all this accompanied by sangria. (Some very nice wines, white and red, were generously poured throughout the rest of the meal.) Next up were firsts and seconds of a vegetable soup. Then salmon with scallops and a shrimp in a champagne sauce. Then a coup du milieu (which was three scoops of raspberry sorbet topped with a splash of pineau). Then roast beef, potatoes, and haricots verts. (At this point we had to leave.) Next up was a cheese course. Then a dessert. Ending with coffee and chocolates or cookies. And entertainment at some point, that we were sorry to miss.

As we left, making our apologies and explanations, people were appalled that we were missing our dessert -- the least interesting part of the meal to us (we were sorry to miss the cheese). Before we could get away, the caterers packed up our desserts in plastic take-away boxes; we got five mini-pastries each. It seemed like they were prepared for early leavers.

We got to the John Mayall concert (fitting to see another old geezer after the old folks' lunch) in time to stand in the long queue waiting to get into the auditorium. Like the Paradiso, there was seating at the back, with standers on the floor near the stage. Not quite as gezellig at the Paradiso, and no bar in the auditorium. We were dying of thirst after the long meal, but no liquid refreshment was available. We should learn to keep a bottle of water in the car for such emergencies.