It pours all day. The sort of rain that stings the face and trickles down the back of the neck. Outside the cafe under the arcades there's a half hearted attempt at a market. A few dishevelled shoppers and even fewer stallholders. The townsfolk displaying a very sensible aversion to wet weather. The waitress feeds Bob and Sophie their 'illicit' half croissant. " It'll stay wet like this for the next eight days " she informs me with a Gallic shrug of the shoulders. We buy our baguette from the baker and head home.
Two lively sheepdogs. Constant rain. Limitless energy waiting to be released. Finally, Angus puts on his wellington boots and heads off across the fields. By the time we make it to the end of the village he's accompanied by what appear to be two Polish Lowland mud balls.
A communication from the town hall. This year there will be a change to the election procedures. Some form of identification must be shown at the polling station and it is no longer possible to vote for someone who is not a declared candidate. Both are likely to be highly contentious. There may be trouble of the " What do you mean I need identification ? I've lived here all my life ! " variety. Still no news as to whether the mayor is going to stand again or whether there will be a battle between the heads of the two mutually loathing village committees. Watch this space.
Sophie keeps on appearing with pieces of floor tile. Despite a thorough search of the house we are none the wiser as to where she's getting them from.
8 comments:
The look on Bob's face says : I don't know how this happened, honest. I was minding my own business and pouf, I was covered in mud, just like that!!!!Catherine from Sydney
Perhaps Sophie has found her own archaeological dig.
XXXOOO Daisy, bella & Roxy
I wonder what the angels would look like if you didn't bath them so often.
Maybe they're trying to achieve the PON equivalent of dreadlocks!
Angus, with that weather you could be back in Scotland. Do you have the 30 mph wind this morning too?
Time here to batten down the hatches and stay indoors. One of those chocolate smothered cakes would cheer up the morning.
Cheers, Gail.
We are having 77F/25C weather with relentless sun and are told we will probably suffer a very, very hot summer as well. Suffer being the
operative word here. Global warming.
We'd give anything for cool rain.
Did you and the angels celebrate
Burns Night? Couldn't think of two
more delightful revelers than Sophie
and Bob.
maybe it's time to train the little angels in rug surfing? i know the ghosts of two little white pons would be cheering them on!
and just think NO MUD. only maybe a broken lamp or two? :D
The little angels sure enjoyed their Sunday in the kind of weather that they adore.
My Sunday would have been super duper complete with that mile-high eclair in the photo.
Hope you find the source of Sophie's tile treasures soon. I noticed you wrote "we are none the wiser"....glad the Font is back home.
I laughed out loud at photo four. He looks like a Womble. Was one called Uncle Orinoco?
I'll be watching this space.
Maybe the tiles are coming from outside somewhere?
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