On the town hall place, formerly there was the Post office, there was the hairdresser Dartagnan or the  hairdresser Lauret where I had my hair cut - a crew cut (I had hair in that time)

       The town hall  always  stands there on its arcaded feet . Close to the town hall, an old house with visible beams was restored and is inhabited by my former primary school teacher  Pierre Fort. See how this artist -sculptor succeeded in creating a work faithful to himself.

        But who knows that in the attic of this house are hidden innumerable wood sculptures that he showed me one day on the sly and who would deserve more recognition ?

       Leading to the  town hall place, the street Charles Laterrade, a General. Gascony is honoured too much alas for its soldiers, D' Artagnan from Castelmore, born at about twenty kilometres from here or the "Marshal de Lannes" from Lectoure, as if the Gascons did not also have  artists or poets, beings more refined and less barbarians.

       The Laterrade street was a small commercial street. Many "Plaisantins" remember Gerald the grocer, or Grasset the butcher where my mother often sent  me to queue up or to do some shopping. There is always the café formerly Darroux, where I was thrilled, watching  many televised matches... rugby matches,of course.. It was the beginning of television. A big wolf dog slumbered at the door.

       The High street which connects the two places saddens me today. Too many houses or stores are closed or on sale. The fault with the hypermarkets built " in the suburbs " "Le Petit Paris ", a clothes shop  is always there. The cinema of mr Hugo of my childhood has become a " bodega ", offering Spanish relish. Spain is not so far and Plaisance accomodated many Spanish immigrants driven out by Franco or misery.

   After the town hall place one crosses the bridge on  the Arros, a peaceful river, born in the Pyrenees, a tributary of  the Adour. I have  never understood why the  Adour into which it merges or disappears a few kilometres away deprived the Arros of its name. The reverse would also have been suitable. For me, it is the Adour which vanishes into the Arros and not the opposite! Geographers sometimes  make boobs. They are inexcusable.