Suddenly it's turned hot. Not warm - hot.
Sophie watches me drag the garden umbrellas out of winter storage.
The PONs get a pre-breakfast walk down the hill to the stream. The farmers already up and about ploughing the fields while the air's still fresh.
Then a trip to the little market town for a coffee and a visit to the fancy 'artisinal' chocolate shop. The cafe already full of market goers. Bob and Sophie share a bowl of water and get given some choux bun crumbs. Although it's early there's a long queue of people at the chocolatiers slowly determining which egg they should buy. Chocolate at Easter is a big French thing.
The chocolate shop is run by a grandmother with one eye and an ill fitting yellow wig which perches at a thirty degree angle on her head. A mass of silver curls peak out from under the wig. She wears a white trouser suit with red stripes on the sleeves and a double width of stripes along the side of her trousers. Her sixty something daughter dresses entirely in black and glares malevolently at customers through thick black mascara. An aging Goth look. On this busy day two teenage great grand daughters have been roped in to serve customers. One does all the work, the other passes her time staring aimlessly out of the window. She is presumably either love struck, disinterested or quite possibly what the Scots would call glaikit.
Angus asks the aimlessly staring one what 'Petits Pois au Lard '' are. She looks at him, pauses - at length - to think of an answer and then opines '' They're Petits Pois au lard ". Glaikit. Angus makes an executive decision to buy a chocolate chicken and an Easter egg. The girl wraps these up - slowly . Angus declines the offer of having them tied in pink ribbon. There is a backwards and forwards conversation with her sister at the till as to what they think the price of each item should be. When I get home I discover the chicken and the egg have been wrapped in great flounces of pink ribbon.
Bob and his master head off for a reviving fishing expedition at the little waterfall.
And here's a golden oldie for those about to take their dogs on a Sunday morning walk.