At The Rickety Old Farmhouse the morose lads are applying a coat of plaster to the terrace ceiling. They will return tomorrow to apply a second layer. Then they'll disappear until such time as the stone for the terrace floors is delivered.
The builders yard has the audacity to send a bill charging me for the time and transportation of the stone flooring to the incorrect address. They have the stone and I've paid for it. Later today I'll drive over to discuss the situation.
Sophie spends her morning trying to drink from the cement mixer. When that is put out of bound she turns her attention to a variety of vessels used to mix up plaster and concrete.
The morose lads have learnt that it is best to keep their baguettes well hidden from the family princess. I do however catch a glimpse of each of them, in turn, giving her a small sample of their lunch. Sophie thanks them with a wag of her tail.