A Little Gallic Mystery.

The shop in Uttoxeter which used to sell cheap-but-very-good Italian coffee no longer does so. Much of what they sell comes from batches of redundant stock, so when it’s gone, it’s gone. In place of it, they now have several new lines which are equally cheap, but as yet unproven. One of them was French, and being a bit into things Gallic, I decided to risk a pack.

Frankly, it’s a bit dull and earthy, which is a trifle odd when you consider that most things Gallic are anything but dull and earthy. French people, for example, are more given to being vivacious than dull and earthy. I met one called Hélène in Oban Youth Hostel half a lifetime ago. She wasn’t dull and earthy at all. In fact, she had a remarkably good line in whimsical humour, which I consider no mean feat when it’s being practiced in somebody else’s language, and all the evidence I need of a vivacious tendency.

So now I have a mystery on my hands: something Gallic that is also dull and earthy. It did occur to me that maybe French coffee doesn’t taste right until it’s had a croissant dipped in it at least a dozen times, and that’s the hope to which I am fervently clinging. It also occurred to me that somebody visits this blog from France on a regular basis, so maybe he or she might put my mind at rest.