Yesterday was a beautiful day, wonderfully sunny, it hit about 30°C. So after an early lunch Pat and I went into town.
Catrin had already left to join some friends for the March for Jesus. I'm still not quite sure that marching for Jesus is quite where I'm at, or that marching for Jesus under a blazing sun at 30°C was a very good idea for either of us, so we headed for the Jardin Publique to stroll in the shade of the trees and see what we could see.
Afterwards we went back into town, through the tents and booths of the Epicuriales, the annual restaurant festival, when the cafes come to the Allées de Tourney and all kinds of great lunches are offered at 15€ a head.
At a stall some folks were giving out red roses for Mother's Day. They were a group of Muslims, trying to show a smiley face in what must be a difficult context. I chatted with one imam while Pat accepted a rose from someone else. I was less enthusiastic about the other chap who had his video camera up my nose, but hey.
Then to Macdonalds for a quick ice-cream before heading off home. As we got to the number 4 bus stop what should we see but ... March for Jesus, just hitting Gambetta. There were about two to three hundred people, I think, a thousand according to the organisers, 75 according to the police, with two lorries, one with a singing group in full flow. I can't remember what the purpose of the second lorry was.
That evening there was a massive storm. The thunder and lightning were very impressive. I watched planes landing through it all and wondered what it was like being a passenger just then. Catrin, meanwhile, was picnicking on the quays when the storm hit, with accompanying mini-tornadoes, sudden torrential rain, strong gusts of wind, and thunder and lightning. She got home severely wet, had a shower and took to her bed.