Sophie appears in the kitchen. It's one of those mornings when every couple of minutes the weather alternates between drizzle and bright sunshine. Today, the family diva is in one of her quizzical moods . We run through the earthquake in Jamaica, the trillion buck deficit and whether there will be 'witnesses'. Sophie soon becomes bored with world events and makes it clear she has croissant on her mind.
When it comes to the state of Sophie's coat the drizzle rather than the sunshine has won. I tell her she is a vision of unalloyed loveliness. It's good that PONettes don't understand sarcasm.
New additions to the exotic food aisle. Hot Dog relish and Bar-B-Q sauce make it into the supermarket .
I hope they are more popular with the locals than the jars of Fluff and peanut butter which seem glued to the shelves and must now be getting on for three years old . Maybe like fine wine these imports will improve with age. It's a mystery that maintaining uninterrupted supplies of kitchen roll is beyond the shelf stackers but a dozen jars of 'exotic' Bar-B-Q sauce is deemed worthwhile. There might be a market for the stuff in cosmopolitan Paris but not here in deepest France profonde. The wonders of French retailing.
While coming to terms with 'twinges' Angus is ploughing through a book a day. Yesterday it was a book from a Stanford author on Europe in the late 1940's. This proved to be surprisingly well written although 'The Fonts' interest in Albanian domestic politics might not survive a second dinner time conversation.
The artisanal bakers in the little market town has shut down. This was the place that made 'The Fonts' birthday cake. The owner was a sweet girl but not at all business minded. The market for delicate, expensive cakes tends to be limited in small rural farming communities. Angus was often the only person in the shop and may have been the target demographic. So sad to see dreams shattered. There again a business plan might have been a good idea. Looking through the window everything has quickly been cleaned out, counters and oven included.
A couple of doors down someone has attempted to turn an old jewellers shop into a ground floor apartment. The large plate glass window replaced by a smaller wooden frame and a stone infill. With e-commerce killing the High Street converting old shops into apartments is going to be a thing. I've yet to see anyone get the proportions of the conversions right but this one ain't too bad. Street front privacy is always an issue.
Returning from our morning expedition Sophie is looking frightful. She is just the right height to collect wet grass and mud on her undercarriage.Time for a grooming. She settles down on the table in the morning sun. Within seconds she's asleep. With such a hectic lifestyle the family diva's soon oblivious to the world.
After a shared croissant could there be a better, if inelegant, way to start a Tuesday ? Sophie is a snorer.
Prague 1937. There is something very art deco about the worlds largest filing cabinet : https://www.vintag.es/2020/01/central-social-institution-prague.html
Another sign I've become my father. These young people seem very cool. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GCpvmHi1gxU&list=PLy_wKxVmWb4ZW30M-Dh7GrkVrOtkGMsmm&index=3&t=0s
When we return from our morning walk Sophie's coat has developed that unkempt ' goodness gracious me ' look.
She is loaded into the back of the car and driven off to the market. There, the PONette discovers that the traiteur is preparing his daily specials. Today there will be tripe or snails 'Catalone' style. Angus would guess that garlic, tomato paste and snails are the ingredients in the latter. On second thoughts make that garlic and snails - in that order. Sophie is entranced by the thought of tripe but is quite willing to give the snails a go. I explain that they're as different as Bangladesh is from Ukraine but she seems undeterred.
Todays croissants look the part but don't live up to their promise. The dough is more like processed white. 6/10.
The cake display has a new addition. A kind of grey thing with piped icing. I would ask what it is but this morning the ' other worldly ' girl is serving behind the counter. She exhibits an ethereal indifference to questions. Angus would put this down to his accent but the French seem to receive the same disconnected response. From the pace she works at I reckon she may simply be ethereal.
The butcher is making pork sausages. They'll be cooked and ready in half an hour. Rather than wait we opt for a Roti de Poulet Farcie to take home. Sophie reluctantly agrees although she's quite willing - indeed keen - to wait for the sausages to be cooked and ready.
So starts a quiet 'off season' Monday morning in a part of France that is so remote it's rarely - if ever - ' in season'
An admonitory look from Sophie this morning. She wonders why Angus takes so long to get ready.
The donkeys are at the bottom of their field and ignore us. The same can't be said for the horses.
They are particularly friendly this morning . Sophie isn't overly happy to be at the receiving end of their attention. Horses can seem so big when close up. Much better to maintain some distance.
Off to the Sunday morning market to buy some flowers ...
... and some bread.
An interesting sign of the times. We see three people wearing face masks. The French radio coverage of the Corona virus outbreak has induced a state of anxiety amongst some of the locals. A case in Bordeaux has been reported. All three mask wearers have covered their mouths but not their noses. Angus wonders whether he should point out the illogicality of this but decides his French isn't up to the finer points of epidemiological transmission mechanisms. Angus and Sophie shall closely monitor how many locals are wearing face masks.
Another grey January morning. The weather is behaving in a relatively civilized way. Wet and windy at night. Still and chill during the day. This morning the readout on the dog car dashboard incorrectly tells me it's an amazing 28 degrees . The dog car dashboard also has a less than endearing habit of randomly giving me directions to a pizza outlet in Wolfsburg. It is one of those 'last vehicle off the assembly line on a Friday' type cars.
Sophie and her master go to the bakers by the motorway pay station for a shared croissant. The cake selection today lacking in colour. The preponderance of brown may have something to do with everyone having spent all their money at Christmas and now compensating with a period of self denial.
Vin Jaune in the wine shop. Some folks swear by it. Angus thinks it tastes like hay infused water.
Sophie is in one of her ' wherever you go I shall go too ' moods.
This lasts until the family princess works out that 'The Font' is making a braised beef pie. After that there's no real competition. Angus is forsaken for the possibility of some discarded meat.
A style of singing much emulated by a younger generation of Celts. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P7C53nNffVA&list=RDP7C53nNffVA&start_radio=1
Good morning from Sophie who starts her day looking almost respectable.
The supermarket entering into the spirit of the Chinese New Year with a display of improbably named Suzi Wan oriental products. These do not seem to be flying off the shelf. Probably something to do with the Wuhan coronavirus stories that dominate the morning radio show . The radio announcer tells us in a tone of disbelief that Wuhan has a population greater than Paris.
The Chinese aisles may be empty but there's a group of ladies carefully examining a large display of bags for hanging your ham haunches out to dry. Must be pig slaughtering time.
Two workmen are installing a new display cabinet near the exotic foods aisle. Waters of the World. You can now wash down your peanut butter or Polish gherkins with a bottle of Norwegian water at E5.90 for 3/4 litre. In a land where Evian is king I'm betting this will be a retail disaster but am happy to be proved wrong.
And a pitch perfect Scots song for tomorrows Burns night.
https://youtu.be/zr9C_R2UM20?t=26
The morning press does its best to make the Impeachment Trial seem exciting but distance adds perspective and everything seems pre-ordained. Sophie takes the view that the center is vanishing. She would talk about Cory Gardner but at this time of the morning has more pressing issues on her mind.
The Old Farmer didn't get as far with his newly acquired trailer as he'd hoped. It sits abandoned in front of his garage. He has returned to the market town twenty miles away and his new lady friend. He may reappear next week. The trailer is unlikely to be stolen.
A near trauma at the cafe. They've run out of croissants. The waitress tells Sophie that she's got to wait two minutes while a new batch comes out of the oven. The same message is repeated for Angus.
The waitress returns five minutes later with not one but two piping hot croissants. ' They've got burnt ends ' she adds by way of explanation. Sophie has to wait a little longer for her curly ends to cool down. I explain to her that patience is a virtue. She seems unimpressed with this eternal verity preferring the instant gratification approach to life.
Back in the village the three tree stump Christmas reindeer are still in place on the village green. Perhaps they will become a permanent feature ?
