The well in the garden has run dry. It usually runs out of water at the end of June or early July but for the last three weeks the local farmers have had their huge field sprinkler systems running 24/7. The water table has now fallen way below the level of our well shaft. A severe summer drought now looks like a fair bet.
Angus struggles with the dead irrigation system. He switches the supply valve from well water to town water. The PONs look on encouragingly. The mayor arrives to borrow the step ladders. Last week he'd put out the flags on the war memorial for VE Day. He was supposed to take them down after three days but sometimes, in a village of 67 souls, things just get forgotten. '' Better late than never " he says cheerily. For the task he's wearing his dungarees and red tartan pork pie hat.
Bob makes strange facial expressions. I'd worried that his tooth might be hurting him. The vet has looked at the damaged incisor again. The good news is that the nerve has been left covered and unharmed despite him losing a third of his tooth. He is a lucky boy. The strange facial expressions are just that - strange facial expressions.
Finally, after the daily start the day disagreement over who should sit on the right side of the car and who should sit on the left the PONs lapse into silence and we head off. Today is cheese shopping day.
A Banon and a Candourin for 'The Font'. Some Abbaye Citeaux and Cure Nantais for Angus. Overly ripe and very runny Brie de Melun for the PONs. The pretty girl behind the counter laughs as they lick her fingers. Bob gives her his ' I love you. I really love you ' look. Sophie is rendered silent by the glorious taste of the pungent Brie.
A quick detour to the florists for a pepper plant. The florists is dark and mysterious inside. There are buckets of water everywhere. The PONs drink from them. Loudly. Their beards leave a trail of water droplets on the pavement as they go.
So starts our Wednesday morning.