A Sunday morning in May. From his position at the front door the family guardian surveys his domain.
Passing ruffians and any manner of wild beasts think twice about venturing into the garden .
Time for a game of throw the heavily chewed starfish that's been buried under the laurel hedge.
Then there's time to christen the large green septic tanks.
Sunday's in deepest, deepest France profonde are not a time for a PON boy to relax
And here's a take on history that's new : https://www.newscientist.com/article/2087924-world-war-zero-brought-down-mystery-civilisation-of-sea-people/