Sunday, October 5, 2014
Time to prepare.
Suddenly, it's dark in the mornings. Two weeks ago we were out and about at seven thirty. Now when we head off the first light is just starting to brush the hills. On our way home we pass the District Nurse . ''Has anyone seen the Very Old Farmer ?'' I suggest she looks in the church yard . The old man goes there every day for a 'chat' with his wife.
Sure enough he's there. Sitting at the foot of the grave, talking away. '' I've told her to lay the table " he says with mock bravado. It seems that yesterday he got the results of his tests. The surgeon had assured him that the operation would be the end of the matter. The stomach cancer thought differently. Nothing more they can do. ' He should prepare himself '. Why should a ninety two year old go through a procedure like this ? Why there should be no post diagnosis counselling even more mysterious.
Madame Bay is called and enters a deep, whispered , conversation with the District Nurse. Monsieur Bay arrives shortly thereafter. Will they tell the avaricious son ?
The changing of the seasons in deepest, deepest France profonde. Bob and Sophie observe everything from their position at the gate. Sometimes having young healthy dogs is a joy in its own right.