The Ardennes is notorious for its wet weather so a new covered market seems like a good idea. A French friend of mine, who has been out of work for sometime, decided to open a stall selling British goods and I have been watching - and trying to help -  her as she battled through the necessary redtape to get started.

The applications were put in back in June, but no-one would know whether or not they were successful until the end of August. Meanwhile there were piles of forms to fill in and several afternoons of waiting around for appointments to see various officials - just in case she was allotted a stall!

Then came searching the internet for produce but, unfortunately, it wasn't possible to access most wholesale prices before you had a real business. (Eventually it was Jay who stocked up from supermarkets on his trips to London, and, surprisingly, some of the prices turned out to be cheaper than those offered as 'wholesale' by certain distributers.)

By the beginning of September no-one had heard whether or not they had been given a place and the market was due to open at the beginning of October. My friend telephoned the Mairie and was told 'unofficially' that she would have a stall. Then rumours started among the market traders that the opening would be delayed until November. The mayor is a friend of mine and so I was persuaded to phone her and ask what the position was. She couldn't be sure but the architect had promised all would be finished by the middle of October.

More piles of paperwork, a bankloan and further financial aid from the authorities and my friend, at last, seemed to be on track with her new venture. If I understand correctly, she will not be taxed during the first year and if the business fails she will not have to repay the loan from the authority, but, if all goes well she will have to start repayments in about a year.

So, this morning was the grand opening. The weather was miserable, windy and raining and I thought of her and her son getting up early to make sure all their goods unloaded before 7a.m. This is because the 'parking place' outside the market is used by the traders who work from their own vans. This means there is no room for those who work inside to leave their cars nearby.

I didn't get there till after eight. My friend has a good place in the middle of the building but she didn't have enough stock to fill the tables and shelves. She had spread it out attractively and put up Union Jacks and the name of the stall - 'A Taste of Britain' - but there was still a lot of empty space. For the first two hours most people only came to look, rather than buy, but trade got going by about ten o'clock and we started to sell tea, biscuits, jam and sweets. Among the customers were three (French) teachers of English, an American, a retired German couple and various friends of ours who came along for support. I wouldn't say that trade was brisk but time passed quickly so we certainly weren't bored.

At 11.30 the Bear came to find me and announced that he had booked a table for lunch at twelve so I wasn't there to help with the clearing up, but she assured me her son would be coming back to lift and carry.

Next week she is planning to take a trip to England to restock. I wish I could go with her but I couldn't leave the Bear to look after the Whale could I?