It's been windy. The branches of the wisteria whipping backwards and forwards in front of the security lights causing them to come on and go off all night. Bob and Sophie feel it prudent to let us know what's happening. They don't tire of doing so until well gone midnight. Before our morning walk I'm up a ladder with a pair of shears lopping away at the wisterias branches. Oh for a night uninterrupted by floodlights.
It goes without saying that sleep deprivation is something the PONs don't understand. They rush out of the front door. Sophie lets out a high pitched whoop of delight as she crosses the threshold. This is something she does every morning despite strict instructions to be quiet.
The builders are back again. Or to be precise one of the morose lads is back. He's diligently laying the tiles on the terrace. There is nothing like the lure of a new car ( or in this case a 20 year old Golf convertible ) to get a teenage boy doing overtime. A morosity defying moment. This morning he's wearing a New York Yankees baseball cap , backwards. The height of chic. He has brought biscuits so Sophie is happy.
A very quiet Sunday morning in deepest, deepest France profonde.