Thunder storms overnight. Hot air from the Sahara battling it out with cool air from the Bay of Biscay. The cool air seems to have won. Shutters rattle, downpipes gurrgle, the power comes on, then goes off. The PONs snore obliviously away.
First thing this morning Bob and Sophie are ready for the off. At this early hour Bob looks merely shaggy. Sophie decidedly squiffy. The cafe under the arcades with its dog hating owner is still out of bounds so we visit the bakers. Some slivers of 'sacristan' for the angelic duo. A black cherry cake for us. Overcome with delight Bob is keen to tell the bakers wife that he loves her. He is quickly 'encouraged' out onto the street.
Next stop the fishmongers. Or it would be had it not burnt down on Friday afternoon. The traffic warden says there was an electrical fire. '' There were four fire engines " he adds in a tone of voice that makes it clear it was quite an event. The street now closed off to traffic. The only place that knew what lemon sole was and where to get it.
And here's some Sunday morning practical advice for travellers to America : http://foreignpolicy.com/2015/06/12/dont-make-jokes-about-bombs-and-no-nude-sunbathing-vacation-warnings-united-states/