Poured the little ones into the swimming pool for their weekly dose of water-themed mayhem and headed into town on foot through the low-rise apartment blocks.
The blocks have recently been re-clad in some sort of half-hearted attempt at gentrification. They still look like low-rise apartment blocks, however and a few of the more stationary vehicles have bright yellow spray paint on the tyres to show that they haven’t moved recently and will, presumably, soon be subject to towing.
I walked past the boulodrome where a large crowd was warming up their pétanque balls with much loud metallic clicking and thudding and frequent cries of “ah merde!” and the more resigned “merdeu!”. It must be tournament day.
I bought some organic bread at the boulangerie a little further along the street and headed back to the swimming baths. On the way I clocked this melancholy little scene next to the hospital and nipped furtively under a fence to take a picture.
Around the corner there was this magnificently rusted garage door. I always find rust and graffiti strangely appealing.
*say the bells of Saint Florentine!