I regretted saying so, but I said, my love, my pet, you need help with the shopping. Don't do it on Saturday as you normally do. I am not working on Sunday and we will both go.
Tran Bakery in Chapel Street has re-opened and I am pleased about that. Closed for renovations only resulted in the walls being repainted. We sat outside and consumed our sandwich and good coffee.
It being a holiday weekend, Australia Day, there were some trashy people around the streets. A gorgeous big blond youth who was clearly still on a high from his drugs the night before, paused at our outdoor table and said to me, Bon jour, bon appetit Monsieur as I was biting into my sandwich. I automatically replied, merci, mon ami. I should have replied, merci, mon cher.
While my back was now to him, R described how the guy stepped out into traffic and stopped the cars in the street. A motorist who gave him a toot of his horn which resulted in the guy going to the front of his car and stare at the man through his windscreen. The poor lad was so wasted.
Later I mentioned to R, that French guy was pretty hot. R said, what makes you think he was French? I said he spoke to me in French. He said bon appetit. R said back, that doesn't mean he is French.
Suppose it doesn't. Anyone can say that and R spoiled my French fantasy.