A tale from a small village
As you’ve probably gathered if you read regularly, L’Houmeau is a small village. We have two bakers, two hairdressers, a chemist, a lady who does dressmaking, post office newsagents/tobacconist and a small supermarket (four yogurts on the dairy shelf, if you are lucky). Having said that, not everyone knows everyone else.

Olivier and two of his friends were in the newsagents the other day looking at magazines. The owner of the newsagents doesn’t mind them browsing and keeps an eye on them If Olivier sees something he wants he comes home to collect his money (He lost his lost wallet before the summer holidays). A woman stormed into the newsagents and asked the boys if they had any money to pay, they answered no they didn’t have any money, so she ordered them out of the shop. Olivier asked her what the problem was and she told them crossly that they had stolen drinks from the supermarket. So the boys went to the supermarket to see the owner (they do go in there frequently to buy snacks and drinks) with the woman following. The owner of the supermarket turned to the woman and told her that she was accusing the wrong boys. Fortunately she had the grace to apologize.

I was pleased that Olivier had the courage to sort it all out. I told him that when I was 14 we were all expected to be football hooligans. Things don’t change much.