One of the opportunities I planned to take while in France this Christmas was to host a stand for my book at the Quillan Christmas market. So I was delighted that, despite the recent incident at the Strasbourg market, and consequent tightening of security, there was no knee-jerk decision to cancel.

A month or so ago I answered the call for prospective stall holders put out by the Ville de Quillan, sending in from New Zealand my details, my cheque and my solemn handwritten vow that the Quillan Christmas market would be my only Christmas market. Not sure why that is required – I guess they want to avoid the ‘same old’ stalls appearing everywhere in the region.

On a wet, cold and dark Sunday morning I turned up just after 8am to find the gymnase a hive of activity. Stallholders were required to set up by 8.30am or risk losing their spot. Sarah from Pyrenees Audoises Tourisme was at the door with a sheaf of plans and papers and pointed me to my table, in a good position down the second aisle.

We had an hour and a half to set up before doors opened, which was more than ample for me, given my simple proposition. My neighbours, a group of crafters from the village of Trillan in the Fenouilhedes, needed all that time to hang and place their various items. I popped upstairs for my free coffee and surveyed the scene.

By 10.30am the place was humming and, apart from a welcome quiet period over the lunch break, remained so for most of the day, despite the rain. Traffic was busy, but my neighbouring stallholders agreed that most people were browsing, not buying.

I thought my table was a bit bare in comparison to the creative delights around me, but I had quite a few people comment on the oasis of calm it presented after the over stimulation of the rest of the hall.

Highlight of the day, among the dozen or so sales made, was the early sale of a copy to the Mayor of Quillan, M. Pierre Castel, to put in his hotel La Chaumiere, for the guests to enjoy.

Later in the day I met the delightful Rita and her husband Brian – former neighbours of Jeannette, who I’ve heard was born in our house in the village. I might get the chance to meet and chat with her, if she is willing.

And then, in passing, a delightful interchange with a local French woman:

French woman passing by: “I’m sorry, I don’t read English. I can’t buy a copy of your book.”

Me: “That’s okay. I understand.”

FW: Are you living here?”

Me: I’m from New Zealand. We have a second house here.

FW: Oh, my daughter just arrived in New Zealand a month ago!

Me: oh, where is she staying?

FW: Wellington- her partner is a New Zealander.

Me: We live in Wellington!

FW: Non, c’est pas vrai! They’re in Central Terrace.

Me: That’s Kelburn.

FW: that’s right!

Me: It’s a small world…

FW: I’ll take two copies of your book – one for my daughter, one for her partner’s family!

Me: Would you like me to sign them?

FW: Yes, in English please.

Me: How lovely to meet you! Please tell your daughter to contact me.

FW: (To friend) Oh, I’m so glad I stopped and made this connection!

Neighbouring stand holder: How joyful is that?

Joy to the world! So much fun. Just another Quillan connection.