The early Plaisance departs from the townhall square southwards. The " rue sainte Quitterie", so called after the name of this saint woman who walked after being beheaded -incredible,isn't it ?,-this street leads to the cemetery where stood the old parish church now destroyed. Further away near a canal, the site of the abbey where monks settled For historical details, please, consult the local historian Alain Lagors, a teacher in the near-by college. Ex-terrible competitor against the TOEC Dolphins. He is far more qualified than me and besides a greater lover of our soil.And that is an understatement.
        I often pass outside the two classrooms where I worked as a primary school pupil in the fifties. Round the corner of the "Rue des Pyrénées", facing the "rue Olléris". My schoolmaster Pierre Fort , the artist sculptor, lovingly taught me  the first rudiments of knowledge .Neither do I forget those saturday afternoons (yes,that's true) when it was  a Five nation Tournament's day. We used to listen to  Roger Couderc*a famous rugby commentator reporting on the radio the exploits of the French Team on the radio. (Against these bloody English... buggers...Not in the French version,more polite)  Rugby, again and for ever !! We are totally contaminated in the region. In cu ra ble .
        At about two hundred yards from school, the family house ,where I was born, 6, Rue Olléris. When a child, that street was not called after the name of that schoolmaster who gave so much to  Plaisance. It was called the "Rue des Pavés"(=Paving stones). I did prefer that name  which allowed me to do  some puns, worthy of a student.. I often called it"The unpaved street" , on enveloppes as cracked  as me I suppose. Here,sorry, some puns unstranslatable: " timbré "=" nuts".A literal translation would give "stamped".A "stamp" meaning  a" timbre".O.K ?
"Des Pavés"=(of the paving stones) pronounced like "dépavée"(=unpaved or rather the paving stones have been taken out)

       The family house stands in this outwardly ordinary street but it is so dear to my heart.  Pierre 's oxen have disappeared,  Laurent Lavedan 's cows too and above all his field were we used to play rugby when were kids, fancying being André Boniface or Gachassin. A housing estate replaces it. Asi es la vida.However no nostalgia ,I am not that sort, whatever you might think..

        I simply love Plaisance and I know why now.Because so many memories are linked to it, those of childhood, of  a happy childhood ,I must say..
        Citydwellers -born there- speak about dead villages, that one gets bored in the countryside. Nay! Every country born villager carries within himself so many memories,he knows so many people.He belongs to a big family where it is impossible to remain a stranger.And it is the same in all villages in France, in all rural regions in France.

        My route was subjective. Any other  Plaisantin -inhabitant of Plaisance- might have proposed a different one.
        Undoubtedly the famous painter Dali pretending that the centre of the world was the railway station of Perpignan was wrong. He was rather a lunatic, we can excuse him.The centre of the world is at Plaisance du Gers. The proof is that, when I am far from Plaisance, I feel uprooted, off centre.And this is not a joke. All the  Plaisantins (Jokers) will tell you  the same thing. .....seriously.
        I could also have told you about districts bearing poetic names,that of  Chante Grenouilles (Sing  Frogs ) or that of     Rapine, along the" rue des Pyrénées", those beautiful mountains we perceive when the weather is clear.I could have spoken about the" de Cassagnac" mill -my grandfather was a miller. Spoken, spoken - non-stop-, but one must be able to stop.