Dydd Mawrth Diwethaf/Last Tuesday

Last tuesday afternoon saw me leaving my house and heading towards Uhelgoat; I first filled my car up with petrol before going to see Delphine in her shop of organic goods of which I bought some carrots, onions, potatoes, cauliflower, a green vegetable I didn't recognize with a similar taste to a turnip, cheese, eggs and fragrant Thai rice; before leaving she offered me a coffee, an offer that I'd previously refused because normally I can't drink anything without sugar, which shouldn't be a problem, except that now I'm a diabetic I have to use sugar substitutes which now I carry about with me, her offer was gratefully accepted; as I was drinking, Rhiwannon Berthou's father Yves came in, one of the top Fest Noz musicians, often accompanied by Patrick Molard, in turn one of the best pipers in Brittany, anyway he joined us for a coffee and Mona Guyomarc'h (Iffig & Catherine's daughter) came in, so there we were, no shopping being done but the four of us drinking coffee. After my coffee was finished I said Kenavo, went to the bank to deposit my week-end's takings (the banks are closed on mondays) then took the old road to Poullaouen, missing out Locmaria-Berrien, going instead through 'La Mine' and onto the Roman road before turning off for Plounevezel and Karaez/Carhaix where I went to look for a present for Glen my grandson who's four years old, not to be confused with Glenn my nephew who's more like thirty-four years old. My quest took me to the back of McDonalds (Yes!) where I found a large toyshop; on entering I asked the manageress to show me the choice for an eight year old? I bought a huge toy commercial lorry with trailor and only realized the huge price after inserting my debit card, never mind, he's only four once and now he can hold on to it until he's eight. On leaving the shop I had plenty of time on my hands because it was my day off, only limited by my diabetes regime. I thought of visiting Callac to say hello to a British couple running a pub there, I thought of going to the Galopin in Guingamp, I considered going to St. Brieuc, even thinking of going first to Rostrenen and then taking the road northwards, but I eventually ended up going to the Korong in Glomel, next door is the Boed Kafe but it was closed,I drank four coffees, an example of my hypocracy, (I don't like selling coffees because it goes against my pub ethos, all bars over here are considered cafes but with a licence to sell alcohol, that isn't my idea of a pub) I did however drink two guinnesses and met an old man who spoke Breton fluently, who explained to me that although there are many nuances to the Language, a speaker should, with a bit of an effort be able to understand all forms; usually, in my bar anyway, once they realize that people are willing to speak it, they enter into a quick conversation, but rarely carry on for more than a few minutes because their speech is firmly linked to their families and villages, Breton never having been universally taught. I said Kenavo, got into my car and drove home.