Bob and Angus go to the wine merchants. Bob usually has to wait outside but this morning the knowledgeable young lady suggests he come in out of the rain. Bob is grateful to be invited inside but is rather dismissive of the wine shop - there's little there to appeal to a PONs nose.
The next door cake shop is a different matter. Orange eclairs with saffron are considered ...
.... as are Passion Fruit and Mango eclairs .....
.... and raspberry tarts .
We opt for a fresh pineapple cheese cake.
Dog and master head into a cafe on the square for a cup of coffee and in the PONs case a bowl of water. Bob closes his eyes and against the sound of the background chatter is soon gently asleep. This being France total strangers wander over and ask what sort of dog he is. Today he's known as a Polish Snoring Sheepdog.
The couple who have bought our 'local' kennels call. We drive over to meet them. The woman is in her thirties and seems every bit as professional as the woman at the 'new' kennels.
Would the dogs prefer to go to a place they know even though the people they meet will be different ? Or, would a change of scenery and a clean break be better ? The existing kennels is a small place where the dogs are walked for half an hour twice a day. The new one near Toulouse is much larger, doesn't walk them but leaves them to wander round their own private 100m2 enclosure. I'm tempted to taken them back to the kennels they know.
The Old Farmer arrives home. He insists on walking up the stairs under his own steam. The ambulance men are told to leave him alone. " I'm not helpless ". They hover behind as he makes his way slowly up to the terrace. A veterans little victory - a thing too inconsequential for a diary but something too important to go completely unrecorded. These things make the world turn.
This is an amazing photograph : https://twitter.com/kengarex/status/838464066247143428