Wednesday 2nd November 2011
First thing we do when we arrive in France is visit the big hypermarket. Before I’ve even walked through the automatic doors I know what I’m going to buy. First it’s bread then follow the aisle along to the fishmonger’s before hitting the fruit & veg and meat coolers.
They have an extensive selection of fish & seafood there & although sometimes we may change what fish we order, we always get mussels.
Unfortunately my Dad has a slight aversion to eating messy food with his fingers. The complete opposite to my son, Zephyrus.
Poor Dad struggled with a dozen shells before calling it a day & wading into the bread.
“Sorry Dad,” I said having forgotten about his phobia. “I forgot that you have to pick these up with your fingers. I should have chosen quails or spare ribs.”
Dad laughed, never fussed about what he eats just as long as he’s got bread.
The perfect guest.
“It’s easy Avi look, you just do this.” Zephy said lashing into his bowl of crustaceans with his hands, up to the elbows in cheese sauce.