Sometimes Bob sleeps upstairs. Sometimes downstairs. Sometimes he alternates between the two. This morning he's downstairs.
Sophie is getting very bored with her enforced inactivity.
The house empty again. A gentle start to taking the decorations down. We'll spread it over a couple of days. Putting away the Christmas cards I see that this one was more politically pertinent than I'd thought. The photograph of the little boy in Aleppo, Omran, was a sad token of last year. The card rather quiet and hopeful - a modern example of the 'angels aren't just for Christmas' school.
The grumpy Polish nun is hurrying into the cloisters when Bob and his master head back to the car from the bakers. She is an unsmiling woman who's role in life is to tell visitors to the abbey to shut the door. '' Don't you know there's such a thing as a draught ? ". Angus and the American boys were told off in no uncertain terms by her last week for leaving the door ajar. This morning she sees Bob, smiles, stoops down and lapses into Polish. Bob halts and is transfixed. The nun glances up at me and says '' I'll stay here and look after the dog for a moment. You go into the church '. A chance for me to study the 12th century wooden 'Flight into Egypt' carving of Mary and Joseph. Under the arc lights the shadows as alive as the carving. For a few dog petting moments I'm allowed to stand alone with this treasure. In return the nun spends spends time with her compatriot. Does a Polish dog bring back memories of her childhood? When I emerge Bob is having his ears tickled and is being called Honey Boy. This would seem to be a very un-nun like thing to say. Bob is looking beatific.
When you travel with a shaggy dog you make the most unexpected acquaintances.
+“Omran, Angels Are Here! is by Salt Lake City artist Judith Mehr.