Wednesday, May 27, 2015
The storm that's been loitering in the Bay of Biscay finally drifts ashore. It threatens to rain but doesn't . Chilly by human standards but enlivening weather for PONs. The wheat showing the first signs of turning from green to gold.
Bob comes with me to the barbers. It's early. The four old farmers who usually put the world to rights on the faded leather sofa by the front door haven't arrived yet. The barber puts on his white three quarter length coat with its high, Mao style, collar. Bob moves to his usual position under the sickly aspidistra and is soon asleep. From time to time he passes wind.
The row of 13th century houses facing the church continue to deteriorate. The shutters hanging half open, half closed. French towns are becoming like doughnuts. The centre hollowed out ( who wants the hassle of an old historic house ? ) to be surrounded by a ring of identikit bungalows and shopping malls.
Sophie has stayed at home with 'The Font' . Sophie prefers a more leisurely start to her day. She can drink from buckets , sniff inside the builders dustbins and roll in brick dust without having to bother with her oaf of a brother. Nine builders here yesterday. The same number and a crane expected today. The PONs think this is wonderful.