Musical interlude

St Gilbert

We have, for some time, been intending to attend one of the Saturday morning concerts given in Cahors Cathedral. They are usually organ recitals and are just 30 minutes long.

The Cathedral is surrounded by the market square, the recitals are free and advertised as the Market Concerts.

We arrived in good time and had a few spare minutes to shuffle through the market before the recital began. I say shuffle because the population of the Lot has probably doubled in the last few weeks as the summer migrants (yes, just like birds) have begun to arrive in their droves. Car number plates are the give away as here in France, currently but probably not for much longer, the last two digits of the number plate denote which département you come from. Ours is 46 so any French vehicle showing a final 06, 96 or, the most disliked by the locals, 75 (Paris) is a holiday-maker or a summer migrant. Add to these the English, Dutch, Belgian and German vehicles and we locals will soon be in the minority.

So, the market was, to coin a phrase 'heaving' and every other voice (and I'm ashamed to say the loudest) was English. Friends all over were greeting each other with a cheery

'How was your winter?' or,

'Have you opened the house for summer?'

Added to these were the transient holiday makers excited by the choice of fresh (and very local) vegetables, fruits and cheeses. The stall holders themselves had multiplied too from a couple of weeks ago and there were peripheral stalls selling clothing, jewellery, handbags and other non-food items. One colourful stall was selling brightly coloured African gowns and I can't for the life of me think who would buy one and wear it in this fairly conservative area where jeans and a sweater are the norm for winter and jeans and a tee-shirt for summer (amongst the French anyway).

We made our way slowly, avoiding tripping over the many brightly coloured wheeled shopping bags which are the latest fashion accessory but a health and safety nightmare for the unsuspecting and finally entered the cathedral.

Today's concert was performed by trumpet students from the city's music school. They were tuning up as we entered. The youngest was around 8 and the oldest probably in his thirties, but the majority were teenagers. There were about 10 in total and they performed various pieces in groups, duos or solo accompanied occasionally by the organ. The standard varied but they all had a good go at their pieces which were sometimes conducted or prompted by their musical director a smartly dressed gent who chewed gum all the way through the recital. The organist had a two foot long beard was wearing grubby jeans and tee-shirt and wafted an odour of eau de unwashed. The students were all casually dressed.

Throughout the recital people came and went, some just popping in for a look around the cathedral were attracted by the music and stayed for a performance or two before moving on. People chatted during the students' playing and it was all very informal.

We couldn't help commenting to each other how, if in England, the concert would have been attended by parents, family and friends, all in their smart clothes; the students would have probably been told to wear a uniform black trousers or skirt and white shirt, and the musical director would certainly not have been wandering around chewing gum! Vive la différence and all that.