The best laid plans of mice and women part IV

The earlier parts can be found here part one

part two

part three

Saffron does Saint Tropez

As for the quiz part of the last episode Dan is absolutely right I was in Saint Tropez in the Provence-Alpes-Côte d'Azur region of France.

As I’ve indicated earlier I frequently have the happy knack of being in the right place at the right time, although just as often the wrong place at the wrong time. Either way I suspect I’m destined to have an eventful life.. so it was in Saint Tropez.


I’d hardly landed on the quayside of the little harbour when I heard a rattle of drums and a cacophony of pipes redolent of an Orange parade in Belfast. Seconds later the source of the marching music came into sight. Briefly I wondered if I’d added time travel to my travel accomplishments as the marchers all looked like sailors from the French Revolution.


The women too all seemed dressed in period French peasant costumes, although I fervently hoped they were not sans-culottes. Most seemed to be wearing cute collars so I could only assume they were some kind of ancient subbie.


My next thought was that perhaps it was some kind of ancient fertility rite as several of the women appeared to be rubbing their stomachs.


Either way they were all wearing hats so I thought Mons will like these and carried on snapping away.


Having said that not all the women seemed enamored with having a Yorkshire woman in their midst.


Then I discovered the reason for the stomach rubbing, some of the older rustic Frogs had already sat down to eat. Looking at it logically there must be few French celebrations that do not involve eating.


It was then I had the uncanny feeling I was being watched. There was a little sailor boy observing me with his classic French sailor’s hat with a red pom-pom swinging a rusty cutlass between his legs, I just hoped he didn’t have an accident.


There was also a woman with piercing eyes watching me. She explained the town’s name derives from that of an early martyr named Saint Torpes. Legend has it that he was beheaded at Pisa during the reign of Nero, and that his body was placed in a rotten boat with a rooster and a dog and the body landed at the present-day location of the town. I wasn’t entirely sure if this was a wind up but I thanked her regardless.

She added this festival was held every year on the 17th of May and that the celebration was called la Bravade. Apparently it celebrates St Tropez in a military setting. Bravade doesn’t translate well, but from what I could gather it can be a sort of military celebration, which also has something to do bragging or of being blustery. I wasn’t entirely clear what the French had to brag about militarily, however as we English have bestowed numerous spankings out to them over the years I decided it was prudent not to mention I was English.


To be charitable some of the sailors looked like nice boys!


...the policeman seemed quite shocked to find a Yorkshirewoman in their midst.


Undeterred I kept snapping away at the hats for Mons.


There was one woman in a black hat who looked very sad. I can only assume she was having man trouble. I did however resist the urge to hug her.


There was of course lots of male-male kissing going on, which is always worth a photo…


Some of the girls seemed to enjoy the guys kissing too….


In fact one seemed to have a knowing look….


My sad-eyed lady of the lowlands kept looking at me and I was sorely tempted to take her home. Mind you wearing a black hat in that heat can’t be good for you.


As it was a Bravade most of the men seemed to be bragging about their prowess, although I’m not sure what this guy had to brag about. Despite that the women seemed impressed.


Well at least they all seemed to agree where it went………

(to be continued)