For once a Sunday that
lived up to its out-dated day of rest label, as we had a mooch around the
Farmers’ Market (buying artisan bread, cheese and pies - though the milk had to
come from the Co-op as none of the farmers had brought a cow), popped into the
tea shop for a coffee, and then enjoyed a Sunday dinner at the pub, before
returning home to watch the Tour de France on the TV; of course the success of
or relaxing day depended heavily on it being a working day for others –
stallholders, shop assistants, waitresses, chefs and bar staff, not to mention
198 professional cyclists and their attendant circus.
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