Tuesday, March 22, 2016
Cloudy today. Bob races ahead to the end of the ridge and then turns to make sure that I'm following on.
The rest of the world may have celebrated St.Patricks Day last week. Not here . The supermarket has put out a mannequin in a bodice, green felt hat and black tights. Special offer beer completes the tableau. What this says about the French view of the Irish doesn't bear thinking about.
The Lindt Easter bunnies are out in force.
Sophie is in fine form.
As is her brother.
In the village the 16th century pottery kiln has been vandalized. Some of the bricks have been broken and the metal grille in front of the oven bent backwards. The gendarmes have been called. The villagers are in shock. In the UK a few broken bricks and a bent grille would signal pre-adolescents at work. The lady with the purple hat ( only recently recovered from her moment with the swaying Jesus ) wonders if it might be terrorists. She has been listening to the horrible morning news updates from Brussels. The mayor reassures her.