Yesterday was the Pardon at Saint Lubin, and as tradition dictates (this is what an elderly gentlemen told me) the weather was lovely. After a short défilé to the fontaine at the back of the village, they lit a substantial pile of brushwood soaked in what smelt like diesel and enjoyed a quick bonfire - another tradition. 
What was faintly alarming was the proximity of telephone and power lines..."Its always been here" was the response to our alarm, presumably since before the lines went up, so they must take their chances. Glad they're not our power lines though. That was just the gentle start to a hectic day. The pardon participants returned to the chapelle, outside of which we (members of the comité des fêtes) were serving kir and selling homemede cakes to fund-raise for intermediate-type technologies for communities in Burkino Fasso.
A sad note was that there was a new member of the team of four carrying the Saint. Our neighbour, Raymond Le Goff, who died a few weeks ago, had, for many years, been very proud to be one of the four bearers. So this was a bit of a difficult day for Monique.
After a couple of kirs (obligatory, it seems!) and a quick lunch (more wine), the afternoon activities were got underway. There is a definite (and predictable) male/female split in who does what in these things, so Pete spent most of the afternoon helping Laurent organise the boules tournament. Easier said than done, as the attractions of freshly-made crêpes (more of which later) and two bars within 100 meters meant that competitors tended to drift off if their next round opponents were not immediately to hand. So the four rounds necessary to whittle down from 31 teams to get a winner, on only 8 boules courts ended with the last two teams deciding to split the 200 euro prize money pot because it was getting too dark to play. Keeping the bouncy castle inflated against the depredations of hoards of overexcited kids took up Pete's spare afternoon time.
I spent the afternoon helping to set up eight krampouezh or crêpes-makers - linked in series (strictly interdit!) to only a couple of gas bottles (this photo gives you the idea). Then Laurent's wife, Noëlie let me have a go at making a crêpe. This looks Soooooo easy when done by experts (It should have been one of those awful tasks on the Generation Game, remember that?). The secret, I was told, was to be calm - not to panic. Sounds just the thing for me - you all know I NEVER panic....So the first one was not too bad - a bit uneven, torn and crisp in parts, but then only Noëlie was watching. About an hour later, when production was warming up, with three people making & selling crêpes, Noëlie called to me - did I want a go? I realised this may well be a now-or-never moment so I said yes. What I didn't expect was that she would immediately vanish and leave me to it. My customers were on the whole extremely tolerant, especially when they realised I was english! The sweet crêpes, made with wheat flour, eggs sugar and milk are relatively easy as they are quite elastic and tear-proof. The blé noir galettes, made from buckwheat, are another matter altogether. The batter is very claggy and stringy, but when cooked becomes much more fragile and likely to tear. When I got an order for three blé noir with cheese & ham it took me a while to understand the order, and then the results were pretty awful. I would like to thank the lady who ordered them for her help and encouragement as I was struggling. Each got worse than the previous, and she kept assuring me that THIS one was for her, so it didn't matter. After that things got a bit easier as I calmed down and stopped panicking. I did notice the queue in front of me was noticeably smaller than the two others, which didn't surprise me. More surprising was that there was any queue at all!
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