Tuesday, May 21, 2013
A flower blossoms for its own joy.
It's raining gently in Toulouse but absolutely bucketing down in Paris. In the middle of the Place de la Concorde four very unhappy and very wet Chinese tourists standing sheltering under an umbrella big enough to cover one of them. Why don't they run to the metro station a hundred yards away ? They couldn't get any wetter .
Out early for a pre-breakfast walk. Hidden in a back street behind the hotel a chapel built on the site where Louix XVI and Marie Antoinette's bodies were buried after being guillotined. There is something ever so slightly unnerving about the sign that says the chapel is closed for 'technical reasons'.
'The font' drives down to collect me . Bob and Sophie are introduced to Toulouse airport. Neither seems to be alarmed by the aircraft noise. Sophie is greatly taken with the arrival halls automatic sliding doors . She lies out flat on the marble floor spellbound by the gentle 'whoooshing ' noise the doors make as they open and close. She drums her front paws with delight. Bob , oblivious, looks down the corridor towards the cafe.
We stop off on the way home to buy strawberries. The sun has returned . Bob and Sophie are delighted that they have found their lost sheep. That sheepdog ' what would they do without our herding skills ? ' seriousness already evident.