It’s a good thing that the first stalls of the market are full of crockery and Provencal fabrics – it’s easier to hold onto your money knowing that if you buy the blood-red earthenware dish now, you will have to carry its weight for the next hour or so. By the time you pass the hat stall and the street corner flooded with woven baskets of every hue, you will be ready for some refreshment. Take cover from the heat of the sun under the yellow canopy of the bar, and line your stomach with an espresso and a pain-au-chocolat from the patisserie across the street – the one hidden behind the stall of paintings displayed on wooden easels. It’s best not to go further on an empty stomach, for as your nose will have betrayed to you by now, a feast of local delights awaits. It would be wise to go immediately to the rotisserie trailer, where you must put your name to a poulet blanche for dinner. It will be ready for you on your return journey. The bread stall next, where the most rustic pain is arranged alongside the most delicate pastry – line your basket with ...