High above Eygalieres, sit a selection of interesting historical buildings. For example, that white thing is the almost obligatory statue of Mary. Generally, when I visit this village, I wander on up to inspect the architectural heritage and the amazing views over the surrounding countryside. Not today though. Don’t be swayed by those azure skies, lit by glorious sunshine: it’s freezing. After the heady warmth yesterday, the temperature has dropped to glacial depths.

Eygalieres sits on a road of singular importance in WW2. Its name commemorates a local and national resistance hero who was challenged by Churchill to parachute into the little mountains of Les Alpilles which are within touching distance. Since I was last in Provence, the Jean Moulin Museum has been inaugurated and I hope to visit the week after next. Watch this space for more French/allied history.

It’s Friday and I’ve come because it’s market day and this is one of my favourite markets in the summer. However, this being the beginning of February, the market is tiny. But – this being February, there is mimosa. The first time I saw mimosa growing in Provence as I was driving along, fourteen years ago, I screeched to a halt. It’s just the most wonderful thing to come unexpectedly across a bush of sunshine. Even the hardened locals are making a purchase today and I buy a couple of bunches for myself and my host.

And there are truffles. I’m not about to make a purchase on this stall as I wouldn’t know how to make good use of them. Monsieur and I have a conversation about possibilities and even though he’s aware it’s a non-starter, he still proudly removes the cover so I can take a snap.

One of the little boutiques here has some of those old black and white photos of days passed in the window. Apart from the clothes the locals sport, it’s difficult to see any difference in the place but it’s now a home to some of the super rich. It’s alleged that Hugh Grant lives here and that both Sarkozy and Brad Pitt were turned away. Who knows, but the second hand shop is charging so much money that the price of this weird piece was negotiable. A small, rusty bird cage that might fetch a tenner at home was being offered for 280 euro!

And what’s occurring here?

Later, I visit the local perfume museum with a view to making a purchase or two. I always buy some violet eau de toilette there, even though the folk are sullen and no-one else I know likes the joint. Well, I’m not going again. I don’t know if it’s something to do with the pandemic, but they’ve stopped making perfume. They only have something called Eau de Provence which smells like insect repellent.

Who cares – I still have the mimosa to come home to.