Talking

I was starved. We entered the Lowdown coffee. It was small, just a few table with a good selection of calorie-ladened cakes, croissants, pain au chocolate and pain au raisins.

Two people were working.

The man was carefully putting coffee beans into silver cups and then sealing them.

My mother and my father would talk to anyone. As a child I never knew if I should know them or not.

I had to ask why.

He explained it was a quality control so each cup would have the same strength.

I picked up on his accent. Yes, he was from Paris and we spoke in French for a bit. He knew of Argelès and had been working there for two weeks having moved from London.

Meanwhile Rick was chatting with the waitress.

It made petit déjeuner much more interesting than just a good pastry and cup of tea.