The Old Farmer has somehow managed to struggle down the steps from his terrace and get his old Mercedes out of the garage. He's squeezed himself into the drivers seat with the zimmer frame propped unceremoniously on the passenger side. The old fellow sets off for a spin while the roads are quiet. The original intention had been to drive to the polling station on Sunday in the equally ancient Peugeot. However, this has a manual transmission and pushing the clutch is too painful for him. The Mercedes is an automatic.
Such small victories make the world turn.
Who would have thought six months ago that the family diva would be navigating rough terrain with the ease ( if not the grace ) of a ballerina ? This morning is a morning for the angelic duo to roll over and over and over in the grass.
An unusual sight. Two American ladies in the bakers. They're making cooing noises at the cakes and telling the young lady behind the counter '' We don't have pastries like this in Zanesville ". The young lady behind the counter smiles at them but, speaking not a word of English, has absolutely no idea what they're saying. I leave the two American ladies discussing whether slices of vegetable quiche would be the sort of thing '' real French people eat for breakfast ".
Immersed in their appreciation of the bakers products the women remain gloriously oblivious to the fact that a lengthy and increasingly impatient queue has formed behind them.
Fermented milk makes an appearance in the grocers. Why are the shelves suddenly full of it?
Is this the best advert of the year ? : https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hjKd24UCPYY