Pierre could hear his cane click on the cobblestones. He has to be careful not to fall. That happened last week and it was so embarrassing laying in the middle of the street and people asking if he were alright or should they call an ambulance.

He's limped home and Marie had called him a silly old man for forgetting the baguette he'd left on the ground.

Every morning he went out for the daily bread and the Independent.

He'd said bonjour to the green grocer, the pharmacist and the newspaper seller. The shops had changed hands many times over since he was a boy. 

The village had become gentrified. No more goats and chickens on the streets now filled with tourist from Paris, London, even  Amsterdam.

He held his baguette tight and the Independent under his arm.

He planned to go out every morning as long as he could --  Old age stunk