Please play the music, then read-on. If it doesn't work, try this.
It's high Summer, and a nearby village is holding it's annual Méchoui and dance. The small public 'square' between the medieval church and the ugly 1950's Mayor's chamber is divided in two; an area given to several long alfresco dining tables, and a space given to dancing.
Bunting and fairy lights are strung between the ancient pollarded Lime trees. Aperitifs are served, then the youth of the village bring round huge platters of spit-roasted Lamb, big bowls of Flageolet Beans, and Salads. Wine is replenished as soon as bottles are emptied. The youth of the village have been well trained, and obviously enjoy their work; nothing is too much for them.
The food continues to arrive. Cheese is accompanied by offers of Eau de vie; which we decline.
It's about 11.30 pm, and the accordionist and his band take their positions on the mobile podium, and he kicks-off with his favourite number Reine de Musette (which should now be playing).
I ask Lady Magnon if she fancies a twirl. We dance for about an hour, then the band plays a Bourrée which we can't dance to, so we stand with all the others in a circle and watch the elders of the village spin around; men dancing with men and women dancing with women. The audience applaud as the ancient dance is demonstrated to all present. A few children join in the fun, trying to imitate their elders.
After the Bourrée we return to the 'dance floor' and show the locals how amateur dancing really should be done. We have no shame about our lack of skill; we simply enjoy ourselves, as does everyone.
At about 1 am, we are tired, and decide to head for home. We spend another hour or so saying goodbye to everyone, before taking to the road.
This used to be an annual event.... I wonder when it'll happen again; if ever?