The pony tailed man who played Chopins Death March on the piano in the departure hall of Toulouse airport should perhaps take a sensitivity training course. Chopsticks would have been a better choice.
Red, white and blue berets for sale. Could only be France.
The language of Shakespeare. The language of Milton. The language of a central London coffee shop. 'Table and Sit are for customer only'. Angus orders an Americano. What he gets is something covered in whipped cream and sprinkled with chocolate powder. It's so sweet it's quite undrinkable.
Back in France the PONs are delighted that their flock is reunited. Bob takes the credit for finding me. So does Sophie. The gardeners are here cutting the long laurel hedge that runs along the lane. Sophie takes a hands on approach to hedge trimming. She is soon 'encouraged' indoors.
The Old Farmer is sitting up after his operation. He claims to be in no pain. The Belgian lady has been tasked with buying cat food and making sure that the bowl outside the garage is kept topped up. We shall go to see him in hospital tomorrow.