An odd sort of day - middle of a four day weekend for some purposes and ordinary Saturday for others. The shop where we intend to buy eggs is closed - so one each tomorrow - but J's favourite butcher shop is open, the doorways heavily hung with sausages and the air heavy with their lovely smoky aroma. As I walk in, my hair brushes against some cured meat hanging in the entry - and how many others have done the same? We buy a smoked pork fillet - much nicer (though more expensive) than the supermarket ones.
Only one market stall is open, and reasonably busy, so we get bananas, mushrooms and courgettes. Text from Maggi asking where we are. At themarket - does she want coffee: So we meet at our regular cafe - but it's sunny and quite warm, so we opt to split a large (66 cl) abeer 3 ways instead of coffee.
Midafternoon M texts again to say that she hasn't seen Magne for hours, actually since morning, and has checked his usual haunts as well as the promenade - twice. she waits until four and then, with darkness coming on, goes to the police station, kitty-corner to us. Somewhat to our surprise, the police are quite good about it, checking the hospitals for accident victims and having the regular patrols keep an eye out. And it pays off when, a couple of hours later, the policee return him home, apparently after his discovery in a cafe near St. Lazarus. Maggi says the police were "kind and efficient." Interestingly, their weakness as a force is also their strength. Because they are relational rather than official, they are reluctant to deal with driving infractions when they may end up prosecuting friends of friends, and thus we all suffer from cowboy drivers with illegal mufflers and there is a shocking rate of road death. On the other hand, they seem able to take quite a familial approach to an elderly man gone astray, and all ends well.
JAWORSKI TRAVELS