Tuesday, February 25, 2014
If we believe that tomorow will be better, we can bear a hardship today.
To say the Very Old Farmer and the mayor do not get on would be an understatement. In fact the words 'mutual loathing' would be a poor reflection of their antipathy towards each other.
This animosity stretches back many years and, quite possibly, many generations. The most recent conflict was over the mayors decision to distribute bottled water to all the pensionable age villagers during the heat wave of 2012. The Very Old Farmer somehow imagined that as an old soldier all the water was for him and that the mayor was actually selling off the rest or '' letting that fancy woman at the crossroads have it ". That ' fancy woman at the crossroads ' being the little old widow in the orange crimplene housecoat.
We are reminded of the feud on our morning walk. The Village Fleuri Committee are toiling away on the gardens in front of the church. The lady on the lawn tractor has inadvertently started work on ground that belongs to the Very Old Farmer. This results in a twitching of the net curtains followed by a window being flung open. '' You can't bring your machines onto my land. It's mine not the mayors ! ". The 'not the mayors !' is followed by some linguistic flourishes that are best left untranslated. The lawn tractor beats a hasty retreat.
So it is that the whole village will be spruced up in readiness for the national floral village championships. All the village that is bar the strip of ground next to the Very Old Farmers house. This remains a wilderness of long grass, overgrown shrubs and rusting iron. A mayor free zone. Sophie finds this rustic wilderness a delight.