Le Printemps des poètes.
At this time of the year we celebrate poetry, it’s everywhere, even on the bus. For people like me, a wonderful treat. While I was waiting to collect Olivier from table tennis yesterday evening I read the poems displayed on the board near to the gymnasium. One of them made me cry, I can’t quote from it as I would never attempt to translate a poem. It was by a woman looking at her sleeping son and thinking of her husband who had died before he was born. Very simple and very moving.