Jokers to the right...

It was the annual fete in our local town this weekend and the carnival took over the main square. These travelling carnivals, with their colourful and gaudy veneers, always seem sad to me, the last vestiges of a dying tradition. We had lunch in our favourite cafe, and through the window I saw these miserable-looking clowns engaged in somber (certainly not sober) conversation with a gathering of local drunks who haunt the terrace smoking and drinking beer every weekend. It was lunchtime, and even clowns are entitled to a break. I counted four rounds of Ricard in the time that it took us to eat our salad and drink our coffee. It didn't seem to make them any happier, though.