"I call you, 'The Runner'"

Because I'll be somewhat hither and yon for the next couple weeks I thought I had better go stock up on a ventolin, so I hied me away to my favourite pharmacy at the Alouette. The queue was short, there were about 6 or 7 pharmacists dispensing and my chum, whose name I do not know, waved a cheery greeting from the back of the shop.

Lo and behold, when I got to the front of the queue his was the next free counter.

"How are you?"
He likes to practice his English.
"Je vais très bien, mais je suis très déçu."
"Déçu? Pourquoi? Ah, le rugby!"
He went off to get the ventolin.

It is, by the way, feminine. La Ventoline/La Vento.

"Voilà."
He scanned the sticker and scribbled over it.
"I call you 'The Runner'", he said.
"Ah bon?"
"Ouais. Hé, je vous ai aperçu!"
"Quand ça, et à quel endroit?"
"C'était un samedi matin.
"Ah ouais. Tiens, ça va doucement, non?"
"Non, mais c'est bien! C'est courir, c'est tout ce qu'il faut.. Ah! Attendez!"

He charged into the back of the shop and came back with his mobile phone.

"Regardez! J'ai scanné quelques vieilles photos."

They were of a visit to the Arms Park in 2004.
One of the stadium.
One of his ticket.
Here's me and the wife in Westgate Street.
Here's Cardiff Castle.

Oh boy, all of a sudden homesickness hit me like a brick!

"Au revoir!"
"A bientôt!"

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