The car needed an MOT so I took it to the place in Pocé on the Cisse. The guy in the shop took no notice of me when I walked in. He was talking car with another (more important) customer. As to be expected I was already in a sour mood. When they broke off their conversation about shaving pistons heads (I kid you not) and engine knocking noises I scowled and grunted curt monosyllables as I handed over the registration document and keys. The guy told me it would be ready in thirty minutes. “Fabulous.” I replied and took off for a walk in the dank, slushy streets of Pocé.
However dank and slushy, however dull and overcast there’s always something to see although today I was almost ready to give up and go home. After walking through some bleak, grubby low-rise apartment buildings I reached a residential area totally lacking in any distinctive features. It was horrendous. By the fifteen minute point I was desperate. Luckily, just then, I reached an avenue of handsome plane trees hence today’s sylvan photographic offerings.