FATAL ATTRACTION
Resistance is futile when you come face to face with a gravy boat in the flea markets of France
Alan Cochrane can’t resist the lure of a Frech sauciere
By the time you read this I shall be on holiday in our favourite part of France. Yes, we always go to the same part and, yes, I suppose we are creatures of habit. And while I’ve told you before about a couple of my extreme interests, namely, shoes and tents (which some reckon are close to obsessions), I’m afraid I am about to tell you of another, which is aided and abetted by always holidaying in the same part of the South of France.
A couple of weeks ago a woman I try to avoid like the plague accused me at a public event of having an obsession with Alex Salmond. That sent a shiver down my spine because although I love debunking his doings and sayings, the idea of having an obsession with Wee Eck would lead me to see a doctor.
No, this latest confession concerns marchés aux puces or brocantes – the flea markets and open-air junk sales that can be found in every region of France. They are held every week, becoming a sort of mini-festival, complete with a bar and games for the kids.
They’re probably not much different from the car-boot sales you get in Scotland, though I honestly can’t remember if I’ve ever been to one here. Maybe it’s the atmosphere that’s different over there, maybe it’s only the sunshine and a wee glass of the local vin de pays that sets my purchasing antennae twitching. Whatever it is, I cannot resist them. As soon as we arrive at our destination I scour the local papers for details of when and where they’re happening and cannot rest until I’ve been to all of them. What to buy used to be a problem, given that there’s so much ‘stuff ’ on sale, some of which is completely alien to a holidaying Brit, but that difficulty disappeared as soon as I settled on which bits of bric-a-brac to devote my energies and euros to.
That was, and most certainly still is, gravy boats. Yes, that’s right – gravy boats (or sauciers, to give them their French name, which makes them sound a whole lot more enticing). I began buying them – it’s a bit too pretentious to call it ‘collecting’ – at a massive flea market in the southern suburbs of Paris about ten years ago. I’d no idea what I was buying but our French friend – godmother to one of our daughters and a woman of the most sophisticated and impeccable taste – told me that it was a particularly good make and well worth the €20 or whatever was being asked for. Needless to say, she didn’t let me pay €20 and beat the poor stall-holder down to €12 before allowing me to hand over the cash.
That was the start. The gravy boat-buying bug bit hard and I’ve now got about a dozen of the things. Some are extremely fine and can’t possibly be used for holding actual gravy, except perhaps at Christmas, and our French friends generally try to find one for me when they come to stay. I’ve also taken to looking out for them here, but my mother, who can recognise when an obsession has taken too firm a grip on her offspring, sternly forbids me from buying any more on our regular excursions to the splendid charity shops of Broughty Ferry.
Sad to say, gravy boats aren’t the only fleamarket addition to our current holdings. I’ve also bought some lovely little glasses, which are so fine that I’m terrified to use them, and a ‘pastis’ set for €9 – you know, six little tumblers and a water flask – that I don’t think we’ve used once since bringing them back from France. But pride of place in the ‘useless’ category is a stuffed bécasse or woodcock. He’s a magnificent little chap and was purchased for €20 purely because I couldn’t think of anything else to buy on that particular day. He raised some queer looks from the airport immigration and customs officers as he peered out of my holdall on the way home.
I am getting the hang of flea-market bargaining even if Tania, my guide and mentor in this department, is usually on hand to take over if things get sticky with stall-holders. Mind you, I do find that bargaining with the oh-so-polite French isn’t all that difficult, so maybe I should offer my services to our EU negotiators.