Monday morning dawns. Sophie wakes. She lets us know she's awake by emitting a variety of whines and whistles.
Bob kisses his sister. His sister looks long suffering.
Then into the back of the car. The little Skoda is coming up to 4 years old. It's got 75,000 miles on the clock. The dog hair has woven itself into the carpets in the back. The plastic door panelling is scratched as is the the glass on the rear window. A strange smell seems to permeate it. We'll wait until there's 100,000 miles on the clock then trade it in for another 'sacrificial' car. You can leave the little Skoda unlocked ( and with the engine running ) in the sure knowledge that no joy rider is ever going to steal it.
At the bakers I buy two orange cream eclairs for lunch. The PONs are extremely disappointed in their masters lack of imagination.
Back on the ridge the sun beats down. It's high summer in deepest France profonde. A time for dozing indoors during the day and watching the meteorite showers at night.