We encountered two gypsies while in Lille, both with cups held out for coins. Mamie Nicole warned us that the Romani children steal from you, while the adults strip outside wires for their copper components. This leaves residents without the use of their telephones until replaced. We were not lifted of any possessions, even any copper wires we happened to keep in our pockets.
We ate at a small creperie called La Petite Flambée. The galette (savoury crepe) that caught my eye was one with ham, walnuts, honey and chèvre - goat cheese. It was, of course, the best crepe I have ever had.
Later, we went for a walk with Mamie Nicole, who said we were going to see chèvre. I giggled to myself, imagining a pen with lumps of goat cheese tethered inside. But the word chèvre means both goat and goat cheese. Saying le fromage de chèvre is quite redundant. The pen did indeed contain goats, as well as chickens, a couple of geese and a baby goat (which I put into a different category as the other goats because it was so much cuter). This pen was around the back of the town centre of Lambersart, which I found surprising as it seemed a very rural thing to do.
On a similar note, the pigeons here have such deep voices I mistook them for owls out in the daytime. I have yet to see for myself that they are actually pigeons. I remain unconvinced.
View from Mamie Nicole's bathroom window.
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