Beans talk

The car was laden with fresh poison for Algy which I had just specially purchased to celebrate his unexpected return. I had been to his favourite shop in La Rochelle where once again the friendly salesman took more of our money  whilst  confidently assuring me that the contents of the large plastic receptacle in my hand contained a good dose of Algy’s Last Goodnight. My gullible hat was clearly on my head and the the bells on one of my legs were ready to ring out should the leg be pulled. Never was there a man more ready to be stiffed by Mother Fortune when, as luck would have it,  what should hove into view but L’Oasis, a fruit and vegetable stall,  awaiting the arrival of simple folk who are keen to exchange their money for very little . In for a penny in for a Euro – so I stopped in order that the salesfolk should not be denied the chance to fleece me. And there at the back of the stall I espied Jacque’s Magic Beans. Well, I couldn’t resist a sack of them at the modest price of a king’s ransom. After I’d been hung upside down and shaken to check their were no loose centimes in my pockets the smiling thieves sent me on my way. Now in the middle of the forest and so nearly home I noticed a poor baker who I knew would love to take any loose change that was in the car, so I dutifully stopped. It was at that point that I realised my wallet, although thoroughly shaken, was missing and with it all the essential documents necessary for drawing breath in this noble republic. At that point Mother Fortune must have lost concentration whilst falling off her throne in a paroxysm of hysterical laughter because it appeared that I had had the good sense to pick up from the counter of L’Oasis a scrap of paper with their phone number, which is odd as I thought that I had left good sense at home, with my camera, for safety. I sprang to the saddle, and Joris, and he …..we galloped back down the dusty road, through the forest, back to the magic bean stall fully expecting to be  met with blank stares when the words “wallet” and “lost” were uttered by the mad eyed loon ( that’s me)  pushing through the throng of melon fanciers that customarily surround this outpost of overcharging. Luckily they had been taking drugs as, on seeing me frothing through the crowd, one of them held up that which was lost like a banner with a strange device and all was well with the world and I still had the magic beans which I have pictured above for you. These are the fabulous coco de Paimpol which are going to make some delicious things. More of this another time.

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