Correspondent reports from Nimes, way down south in France, where she had gone to a Methodist wedding in a neighbouring village. Yes, Methodist. The couple returns to the bride's family home for a traditional wedding, only to find that the village temple (her term) is out of bounds because of a manifestation taurine publicised on road signs at all approaches to the village.
(Tauromachie is one of the words for bull fighting; this is to be something less.)
Having relocated the marriage service to the church of St Dionysius, some five kilometres away, they await the stampede. Or whatever. A gunshot announces the beginning of the spectacle, children are lifted to the relative safety of parental shoulders, and one small bull, horns encased in cellophane, is released from a lorry and runs through the village, hedged in by five horsemen and horsewomen, to another lorry waiting two hundred metres away.
The marriage ceremony has been less affected by the passage of time: a tiny, drystone temple, plain glass windows, unaccompanied hymn singing. And cameras forbidden.
On her way through Paris, correspondent is given a handout in the metro. It announces the services of an African professor - "expert in the occult sciences, great clairvoyant, competent medium. Specialises in hopeless cases. Reinforces and attracts demonstrations of affection, consideration and love. Guarantees that the loved one will soon we running after you like a dog after its master. Efficacious not only in matters of the heart but also money, luck, exams, the removal of spells, dealing with enemies, exams, competitions etc.
Succeeds where others have failed." Then it gives Professor Kebe's address in Paris.