At the crossroads on the edge of the village the first of the daffodils make an appearance.
We pass a team of workmen taking the down the glass covers on the street lights. They wash the glass and replace the bulbs. Bob christens the tyres on their truck.
The workmen due to build the raised zebra crossing still haven't shown up. The mechanical digger remains parked by the churchyard. Madame Bay says the work on the new crossing was due to have finished last Friday.
Bob and Sophie are oblivious to the uncertainties of village life. In fact Bob and Sophie are oblivious to all uncertainties. Walks are taken, trips in the car made, food consumed, blackbirds chased, tickles received. To round off their day Lamb on a rope is savaged then hidden in the laurel hedge.
Night falls but it doesn't get dark. The Old Farmers star on a pole continues to provide guidance to pilots descending towards Toulouse. The strings of Christmas lights around his gutters continue to shine. In the village hall window the garlands of gaudily coloured bulbs twinkle. Above it all the brightest of full moons. Here in deepest, deepest France profonde the festive illuminations are alive and well.
For Burns Night someone asked what was the most Scottish of all songs. This might just be it :