The bread oven committee

I’m a member of the bread oven committee. I don’t know how it happened. One moment I was staring at the bread oven ceiling, counting the nails hammered into the beams, wondering at the size of old woodworm holes, and the next a show of 14 hands decided my fate. Or should I say fete?

From what I could make out during the committee meeting, there are two major events in our new village: the fete du pain and the tour.

The fête du pain is the annual celebration during which bread and pizzas are baked in the oven, wine is drunk and dancing is done on the old petanque pitch behind our barn.

The tour is the village day out and around 60 villagers usually takes part. This year I think it was decided we will be taking a coach trip to the Garonne. Which is good because I’ve never been.

I don’t know what my new role includes; my partner just said I would be “needed to help”, which even by his standards is a little vague.

His status as a fluent French speaker means the 14 hands shot up when he was selected for one of the ‘big six’ positions. He is now, officially, tresorier adjoint. And he’s very proud.

I just hope nobody asks us to bake any bread.