BUYING A HOUSE IN FRANCE - BUY FRENCH PROPERTY - TALES FROM FRANCE 4

Above: typical views of vineyards in Herault, Languedoc, France.

THE FRENCH DRINKER

Long before buying a house in France we spent one family summer holiday in a village near Mâcon in the region of Bourgogne.
We had found one bar located in the village square which seemed to be largely aimed at tourists and was nearly always empty and we were wondered where the locals congregated for a drink.
After much exploring we finally found, on a quiet dusty back street well away from the centre of the village, what looked like a possibility. With no signs outside to advertise its function and looking like the frontage of a 1950s coffee bar, we nevertheless decided to give it a try. The similarity to a 50s coffee bar didn't end at the outside appearance either as when we went in there was a line of formica covered tables and old chairs running up each side of a central aisle with a bar at the far end of the room, also covered in formica. From the disparately dressed collection of bucolic individuals sitting at the tables nursing their drinks we realised we had found our goal.

My brother in law and I fell into the habit of dropping in to this bar every evening for a couple of cold beers and a yarn, and to absorb the local atmosphere.
The first thing that struck us was the polite friendliness of the inhabitants. Anyone entering the bar infallibly uttered a "messeurs" or "messeurs et madames" in the general direction of the other occupants of the bar before taking a seat, added to which the patronesse of the bar would occasionally join various tables, including ours, for a chat with the customers.
I contrasted this to my brother in law with the reception one could receive in England as strangers, and recalled visiting an isolated Suffolk pub many moons ago long before improved transport links made it easily commutable to London and also before the more recent growth of second home ownership.
On approaching the pub we could hear a great hubub of conversation spilling out of the windows, but as soon as we opened the door and went in the noise turned off like a tap and we had to cross the room to the bar and order our drinks to the accompaniment of implacable stares and hostile silence from the locals which only gradually dispersed once we had been seated for a while. Imagine the reception we'd have got if we'd not only been strangers but Johnny foreigners as well!

Anyway, the French bar certainly contained some colourful characters. There was one regular who was a giant of a chap, always dressed in the ubiquitous grubby French blue overalls and with a huge bandage swathing the upper part of his head, who wouldn't have looked amiss with a bolt through his neck.
However, we derived the most entertainment from the mystery drinker. This was a short wirey fellow of about 65 or 70 with spindly legs sticking out of an enormous pair of shorts. He was usually there when we arrived, propping up the bar and staring blindly at the optics in the manner of the habitual drinker in a reverie, and seemingly content with his own company as he spoke little to the patronesse or his fellow barprops.

After about 15 minutes he had finished his drink and trotted briskly out of the bar into the sunshine and disappeared down the street.
About 15 minutes later he re-entered the bar, ordered a drink, and stood once again contemplating the optics.
This puzzling cycle of behaviour reoccurred several more times whilst we were in the bar and on every subsequent visit we made.
We spent the rest of the holiday idly speculating about his sudden disappearances. Did he circle the village to walk off the effects of each drink before resuming? Was there another bar hidden in the back streets that we'd missed and he was alternating between the two? Perhaps he told his wife he'd be working in the garden shed and then slipped out for several swift ones returning between each one to wave to her through the window to alleviate any suspicions she might have had.

The answer eluded us and remains an unsolved mystery. Any ideas? As they say, answers on a post card please, or better still, use the contact form for your suggestions.