Some years ago whilst on a camping trip in Couhé, rural France, I found myself with some mad blisters on my arm from messing around in long grass. It didn’t hurt per se, but it needed some cream for sure, and some antihistamine to stop the itching.
So, on a Sunday morning, Jez and I jumped in the car and headed to the nearest big town, Poitiers, in the vain hope of finding any sort of civilization open that might sell over the counter drugs on a Sunday in France.
If you’ve never been to France it’s important to understand something – Sundays do not exist. Well, they do, but every French person in the land, and I mean every French person, disappears on a Sunday. I have no idea where they go or what they do, all I know is that there is no one anywhere, and nothing is open. Nothing.
Arriving in Poitiers we pulled out our trusty iPhone 3gs (remember those?) and looked for something, anything. Now to be sure, it could be the primitive technology of the time, or it could be it was Sunday, but the search drew a blank. Shocker.
Poitiers itself was nice enough. Sure there was nothing open and no people seemed to live there, but it was a large enough town with some interesting architecture.
This old building below had been jazzed up with some weird glass frontage and a bridge which seemed to serve no purpose.
And obviously, there was a massive church which seemed way too big for the population of the town, as is the case in every French town.
For the purpose of this blog, we’ll ignore the fact that the biggest day for churches is Sunday, and it could well be that all of the people in the town are inside the Church, as it is clearly big enough to hold the hole of humanity.
Poitiers’ church is really quite spectacular. We were going to pop our heads in and have a look around but were worried that we might find if full and we didn’t want to ruin our suspicions that all French people disappear into their kitchens on a Sunday as they’re desperate to perfect the British Roast Beef dinner.
Anyway, I didn’t find a shop. In fact, we didn’t find anything in Poitiers. Not even a bar. It’s a nice town, but very quiet on a Sunday.