Monday, April 10, 2017

The miscreant.


A pre-breakfast walk with the PONs. A full hour out in the cool air. They bounce along the lane as they return home to be fed. They then fall happily asleep. We drive into Toulouse for Palm Sunday. 10.00 am when we get there. The town deserted in the way only French towns can be on a Sunday morning. 


Five Sushi delivery bikes left out overnight ( unpadlocked ) on the pavement. You wouldn't do that in Glasgow.


The sun casts the shadow of a chapel belfry onto a row of houses.


Piles of palm frondes being handed out on the streets. Teenage soldiers with automatic pistols patrolling the town centre and trying to look 'stern'. The soldiers stop and chat to the girls handing out the palm frondes. The girls break off sprigs and put them in the soldiers berets. Both boys and girls laugh. Chatting to girls is more important than looking stern. On reflection that's the spirit of Easter in a nutshell.

In the Cathedral an altogether more formal atmosphere. The frondes are piled up by the door of the nave. A verger monitors their distribution.


We pass a shop selling metal Foie Gras filled Easter Eggs. We are not tempted.


By eleven the Square in the middle of town is getting busy and the waiters are laying tables for lunch.


Some parts of France manage to retain a Frenchness that seems impervious to change.

Back in the village a young couple are picnicking under the shade of the lime tree on the village green. Picnic rug, umbrella, plates set out, the lot. Sophie wanders over to introduce herself. Bob holds back then, sensing an opportunity, darts forward, hurtles over the picnic rug and disappears behind the Salle des Fetes with a piece of bread and pate clamped in his jaw

All things considered the young couple are remarkably good about having their lunch interrupted. I retreat to the house and bring them a compensatory bottle of wine. Bob, who knows he has been a miscreant, heads back, head low, towards me. All is forgiven but Sophie is miffed that her brother has managed to get something to eat that she hasn't.  'The Font' sighs and then observes brightly that there can be no doubting that Bobs eyesight is as right as rain. 








15 comments:

  1. Oh naughty Monsieur Bob and Mlle Sophie forever the lady. Monsieur Bob does have good taste and it is far better than indulging in something less elegant

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  2. Seems to me the young picnicking couple got a good deal!

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  3. I'm intrigued that it's not in fact palm fronds they are handing out. Even in areas where palms would grow, in France it is box and olive sprigs that are used.

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  4. Oh Bob! Sophie will hold that grudge for quite a while - watch out! The Foie Gras in a tin didn't sound very tempting ... if you read the small print you may find it's not the real McCoy perhaps...

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  5. Bob you have made me laugh out so loud this morning...naughty boy.
    We all expect that behaviour from Sophie not you.
    Madame Font is quite right, your eyesight is great.
    Angus your thoughtful make up gift was appreciated I am sure.

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  6. Bob - you bad lad - not what we expect from a shy, well brought up young PON ! What a shame that you didn't manage to capture the hilarious moment on film, Angus. It would brighten everyone's day ! Is Sophie sulking because she didn't think about doing that?

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  7. Bob's best day ever! Fois gras stuffed chocolate eggs???

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    1. Thankfully not chocolate but metal. Some combinations too outlandish !

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  8. A splendid score for Bob! It’s the quiet ones you have to watch.

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    Replies
    1. Sister is still livid. Whoever knew dogs could be miffed ?

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  9. I love my start to the day with you all. Thank you.

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  10. The mental image of Bob bolting through someone's picnic makes me think of some of the better Warner Bros. cartoons. Bugs Bunny comes to mind.

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  11. Oh my goodness. If anyone could have seen my facial expression as I read this. My eyes got buggy, my mouth fell open and then I laughed aloud. Only Bob.

    He could hijack my picnic any day.

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  12. Oh my goodness. If anyone could have seen my facial expression as I read this. My eyes got buggy, my mouth fell open and then I laughed aloud. Only Bob.

    He could hijack my picnic any day.

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