Wednesday, September 7, 2016
It's still dark as we set off on our morning excursion. Today it's just Bob and Angus. Sophie is heading to the vets after being lured into the back of the car with the promise of a sliver of croissant. She leaps in with the grace and agility of a ballerina.
The mountains shrouded in cloud but across the horizon there's an ever widening band of salmon pink. A sure sign that it's going to be another hot day. We sit on the storm drain and watch the sun rise. Bob keeps a wary eye open in case the donkeys get frisky.
We wave at the builder in his lilac metallic pickup, the farmer in his white Renault van and the young garagiste on his motorbike. They are followed by the itinerant Spanish melon pickers in a small convoy of SEAT vans. The melon pickers drive through the village very slowly as if they have too many points on their license and can't afford to get any more. The Spanish melon pickers don't wave at us. They clearly consider anyone having a lengthy conversation with a dog while danging their legs over the side of a drainage ditch to be 'peculiar'.
We return home to find The Font and Sophie already there. Sophie's limp has miraculously disappeared. In the surgery she does everything she can to display the amazing suppleness of her back leg. '' Dogs and children " says the vet.
Sophie celebrates her return by hunting for badger poo in the field beyond the orchard. She starts to limp ever so slightly.
Why do French newsagents always have a smell that is quite unlike newsagents anywhere else ?