It’s absolutely freezing outside. Disgracefully cold. I go to the boulangerie but I have to wait because the Police are in buying lunch. Not just any Police. The Bike Police.Â
The Bike Police have 'Police' written on their bikes and on their helmets as well. Maybe in case they get muddled up with other helmets, people will know which one belongs to the Bike Police.
The boulangerie woman is normally a right cow but she is being so nice to the Bike Police. Flirty even. Maybe it's the uniforms. Maybe it's the bikes!Â
One of the Bike Police is having a really good think. 'Annnnd… I'll have a Tarte au pomme for dessert...' he says, finally.
Pushing the boat out today are we? Rewarding ourselves for being outside in this bitter cold? He's gonna park that Police bike and eat the fuck out of that Tarte au pomme. He's gonna love it. Crumbs going all on his uniform. She knows this, the boulangerie woman, she can picture every bite.
The Bike Police leave with their apple tarts and now it's my turn. The woman looks at me. The flirty smile disappears. Face like a slapped arse. 'What do you want?' she asks as though I’ve knocked on her door in the middle of the night.
I panic and ask for a Tarte au pomme. There's none left. Great.