Of off we go to Les Marolles, where Sue is hoping to find the flea market in place du Jeu-de-Balle. Well, that was the plan, but despite the superior navigator holding the map, we none the less found ourselves heading off to the suburbs again, in the opposite direction to our destination. Hey Ho! Looks like orienteering won't be the next sport of choice for us.

Unperturbed be retrace our steps and eventually end up in said market and pause for a beer. It was a real wonderplace, full of the most amazing people. The lady in hijab obscures the wonderful black gentleman who sat stock still for about 25 minutes waiting for someone. He was eventually joined by a large lady in traditional African dress who was as animated as he was calm. We also saw a very striking fellow in a fez, carrying the sort of whip jockeys use. I can only think he'd parked his camel somewhere close by. Just about managed not to buy anything.