Les ainés

Somehow I find the phrase “les ainés” less depressing than les personnes agées, or the old folk.  But that was what we all were at lunch today.

We were celebrating the 40th anniversary of Lou Rossignol, the local old folks club. All the usual suspects were there, music provided by two of the sons of Lulu Vaquier, a delightful old man who now he is in his mid-eighties, has sadly decided to no longer sing in public. He did however stand up to explain how the club got its name (I was not paying enough attention to follow him) and then Christine Capieu led the singing of a song about rossignols (nightingales) which everybody seemed to know.

Low-key but aimable.  I was sitting next to my friends, Charles and Pierre, so at least Pierre and I were able to have a – mutually agreeing – conversion about the lunacy of Brexit, our mistrust of Mélenchon, and our hope that Macron and Merkel might succeed in reforming the EU.

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