Mark and I have spent the day working in La Maison Rose, a small gite we are renovating in Reminiac.

At midday, Mark stops.

-“Come on, I’ll take you out to lunch.”

-“I can’t, I’m filthy”.

-“Great. You’ll fit in”.

We arrive at the D8 restaurant in Monterrein. The car park is full of vans.

We walk through the bar and sit at the last two place settings on one of the long tables.

The restaurant is full. I am the only woman. The men are all manual workers, plumbers, electricians, commune employees. I am pleased that I am covered in builders dust. I do fit in.

For entrée, we are offered charcuterie, melon or ham with mixed vegetables and a glass of cider.

The main course is either ‘tête de veau’ (I hope there is another choice….) or tripe (NOOOOOO) or duck (Phew…) The duck was delicious. Wine is freely available.

I am sitting next to a heavily tattooed man in his twenties. He has ordered tripe. This is served with 4 small jacket potatoes. He has spiked one of the potatoes on his fork and is painstakingly peeling it with his knife. I look round. Everyone is peeling their jacket potatoes…

Cheese to follow, then a choice of puddings. I choose Far Breton (a very tradional Breton dessert).

Coffee rounds up this unexpectedly delicious meal. Mark pays the bill: 20 euros for the two of us.

I am reluctant to go back to clearing rubble…

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