No sign of the beer and absinthe crowd at the cafe under the arcades. We take a seat at 'our' table on the edge of the pavement. Bob and Sophie settle down beside me. A Vietnamese man in his late forties and wearing a grey sweat shirt and beige cargo shorts approaches. Tails wag. This is the time of the morning when the waitress usually appears with an illicit half croissant. '' No dogs here " he says stiffly. ' Excuse me ? ' I reply. '' No dogs here. Not wanted " he says. The upward modulation in his voice indicating that his mood is next-of-kin to fury.
Seems the cafe has been sold. The waitress and the barman laid off. The beer and absinthe crowd told, along with any dog patrons, that they're no longer wanted. All very sudden. I shall have to get the details of what has happened from Madame Bay.
Spurned at the cafe we go instead to the bakers. Bob and Sophie get given some flaky pastry crumbs. Not quite the same as a shared half croissant but close. Tails wag.
Bob saunters up to the builders. On his face a look that says " In times of change thank heavens for 'Furry Fox ".