I’d read that many of the villages and towns in this area hold a large monthly farmer’s market on one particular day per month. Being the first Thursday of the month, today was Bellac’s turn.

Mick and I headed off with a few items on our shopping list (mostly fresh vegetables we thought we could buy directly from the farmers), but that was not really the purpose of the excursion. We just like to experience the culture of the French markets and to listen into, and engage where we can, in some French conversation.

It was hard to find a park for the car, and we both thought that this was a good sign: there would be lots to look at. The site of this group of little people on a school excursion heightened our anticipation as we saw them head in the direction of the market square.

But, that anticipation soon turned to confusion.

There were indeed lots of people there, but the stalls were not what we had expected. The ‘stalls’ were filled with sheep, about 6-10 in each pen, and there were many people wandering around, including between 10-20 members of the local gendarmerie (police).

There was even one of the superior offices present as well – not the fellow shown in this photo on the left, but if you look closely in the photo on the right (above) you might spot a hat that looks like his – near the guy in the red shirt, and no, it is not Mick.

It is a bit tricky trying to get photos of the police and the army – as they don’t really like photos being taken. I’ve already been caught before and have been told to stop.

Just how many police officers can you spot in the next photo?

This puzzled both Mick and me. Why would there be a need to have such a large police presence at a local (sheep) farmer’s market?

Mick thought this might have something to do with it…….

….. the ‘refreshment’ stall.

Mick estimated that some of the farmers were up to their third or fourth glass of rosé (and it was only just after 10am), and that perhaps by the time the sales started to take place, the farmers were ready and able to get involved in arguments.

Now, Mick cannot back that up as we did not hang around too long.

At least we now know that Farmer’s Markets here in this part of France are different to the farmer’s markets we are used to going to back home in Australia.