Monday, September 23, 2013
It is better to be praised by another than by yourself.
Sunday morning. Off to the rugby ground to watch the local farmers amble up one side of the pitch and the visiting farmers saunter down the other. At half time the young fireman tickles Sophie's head. The new gendarme, with a neck thicker than his head, tries to do the same but she gives him a ' don't even think of trying that ! ' look. On our way home we stop to say hello to the old dog at the farmhouse where the chickens and turkeys are forever running out onto the road. Then down through the sunflower fields for a paddle in the little stream.
We're just sitting down to lunch when the bell rings. Two gentlemen in black leather jackets standing at the gate looking rather like ageing nightclub bouncers. '' We'd like to talk to you about God, the devil and online pornography ". As a conversation opener this surely takes the biscuit.Time for the ' I only speak Swedish ' routine. One of the gentleman quickly says to the other " we're wasting our time with this plonker ". Bob and Sophie look on in uncharacteristic silence.
'' Who was that ? " asks ' the font ' when I make it back to the terrace. ' Just two men wanting to talk to me about God, the devil and online pornography ' I reply.
Life in deepest, deepest France profonde.