The rain stopped during breakfast and the sun beckoned us to go to market at the neighbouring town of Saint Renan this morning.

“Do you like seafood such as crabs?” asked Glyn. (Glyn is Chris’s brother with whom we are spending the weekend.)

“Certainment! (Of course we do)” we answered.

“Good,” said Glyn.

And we followed Glyn and his Portugese ami, Gee (perhaps not the correct spelling), as they made their way through the market. We came across many purveyors of seafood, and at each one I expected us to stop and buy; however, we passed by each of them until our return, and even then we stopped at only one special one. The stall belonged to a lady I recognised – she was Glyn’s new neighbour, the one who intends to extend her house along the other side of Glyn’s garden wall. Chris, who was doing the buying, asked for three crabs. The rich fisherman’s wife sold us three live crabs and four whole plaice for fourteen euros.

“They were worth between thirty and forty euros,” said Glyn with a knowing smile.