I didn'y start out with the intention of writing about Connie Francis or any of the other singers who are associated with the song of that title so I shall say no more about it.
There can be very few of us who have not, at some time or another, come back home from holiday with a souvenir of some sort. I have returned from Switzerland with a cuckoo clock, from America with a CD of screen savers of views of Shenandoah National Park, from Spain with an orange sombrero, from Detroit with a CD bought at the Ford Museum entitled Music Box by Candlelight as performed by the Porter twin disc music box, and from France with a CD of accordian music. I rather fancied a cuckoo clock and it did hang in my office for a while but I cannot for the life of me remember why I thought it such a good idea to buy the screen savers, the sombrero or the music box CD. I do know why I bought the accordian music.
It was when Chris and Mrs Chris were spending a blistering hot week with the Old Bat and me in our French home. The Old Bat and Mrs Chris had taken themselves off to explore the clothing stalls in the market in Chateaubriant (of which there are many) and Chis and I had retreated to our favourite café/bar where we sat in the sun on the terrasse to enjoy a welcome few minutes of doing nothing in particular. One of the nearby stalls sold DVDs and CDs - every market of any size has one of these stalls - and to attract business the stallholder played one of the CDs. In this case, as in so many, it was accordian music. I've never seen anybody buy anything from one of these stalls. Looking through the titles on offer, yes; but buying anything, never. Except for that day. I think Chris and I must have had a touch of sunstroke because we both bought a CD. We bought different ones and (whisper it quietly) copied both of them so we each had two CDs. I don't know about Chris, but my two CDs haven't seen the light of day for yonks.
On the other hand, the CD by the Kish Celtic Band that was given to me by the lead player in Detroit has been played many a time. This is one of my favourite tracks.
The weather during our recent sojourn in the western Loire was mainly grey and cold with several frosty mornings and a couple of light dustings of snow. However, there was one afternoon when the sun shone and, as I wanted to check if Mr Bricolage was still open in Segré, we took ourselves off for a drive. It was that afternoon that we passed through the village of Armaillé and I took this photograph.