Milk in France comes in bricks of UHT. Imagine my astonishment at encountering a fresh milk machine at the Carrefour hypermarché. You take a bottle from a dispenser and place it beneath a nozzle. A veritable champagne of milk is delivered whilst the machine moos in appreciation. It’s almost like being down on the farm. Gilles suggests replacing the metal spout with a soft rubber teat but I won’t go into his reasoning. As you will know by now, he is foreign.
Walking home through the allotments I met a very local French son of the soil guy wearing a T shirt labelled in English “Ethnic Support Council.” A Google boogie reveals this to be from Washington State USA. What unknown currents colour our lives?