The international thirst for feathers in Edwardian times and the earlier mention of pigeon wings somehow reminds me of the time some years ago when we were hunting for ‘Hat’ postcards at an early morning street market in a Paris suburb near Saint-Ouen. It was a damp, overcast day and, encountering a stall laden with junk and staffed by a couple of old men, I took the opportunity to try out my schoolboy French. I wished the two old boys ‘Bonjour’ and enquired ‘Avez-vous les cartes postal? Les jollies filles avec grands chapeaux et plumes?’ One responded cheerily but the other remained sullenly silent. Had I caused offence? Was my French really that bad? Excusez moi, but the French was actually going OK and, as I was pointing out that the dreary weather was not what we had expected in Paris, a seemingly fearless pigeon suddenly descended at speed from a nearby tree and landed smack in the middle of their stall amongst all the rubbish. Keeping a straight face, I asked ‘Combien pour le pigeon?’ In an instant, ‘Monsieur Sullen’, spotting a potential sales opportunity, suddenly came to life and piped up: ‘Dix Euros’ to which I jokingly responded that the price for the bird was far too high! Sadly, our ageing entrepreneurs had no ‘Hat’ cards to offer us that day but ‘Monsieur Sullen’, having suddenly morphed into a deadpan Parisian street comedian eventually saw the funny side and raised a smile. Vive l’humour!
