Another beautiful morning. There are three deer on the village green. They hurry away before the PONs notice. A huge flock of starlings dart and weave through the heavily mistletoed oak copse. Jays everywhere. The emerald blue of their wings a hint of June in December. Sophie watches Bob leap across the ditch and onto the muddy field. She follows him. So we progress down the hill. A dog owner and two ditch leaping dogs intent on having fun.
A large motor coach stops outside the church and disgorges a group of pilgrims. They head off towards the Holy Well, led by a lady with stout shoes and a clip board. The chattering throng returns half an hour later to eat their sandwiches on the low wall that surrounds the Salle des Fetes. Bob and Sophie are intrigued by this activity. Or rather I should say they are intrigued by the pilgrims sandwiches. The pilgrims are only of secondary interest.
Bob sits guarding on his stump set for an hour after they've gone. Sophie gets bored quickly and heads off in search of moles. She never finds any but the deep holes in the lawn tells you she excavates in hope.
The sun sets. Darkness falls. Lights are switched on in The Rickety Old Farmhouse. On the other side of the lane The Old Farmers decorations burst into life. Pilots on night flights into Toulouse must look down and wonder.