Wednesday, March 12, 2014
Grin when you win and laugh when you lose.
The local garden centre has started stocking a new line of patio ornaments. Plastic purple and green calves and lambs. The biggest two feet high. Quite gruesome. What's the betting they fly off the shelves ?
The PON's spend their day at the garden gate barking at pilgrims. Some pilgrims ignore them. Others make coochie-coo noises at them. All, irrespective of rank or nationality, are made aware that they are being watched.
A week ago the newly planted roses and lavenders were under water. Now they're being baked into the clay by the sun. The irrigation system is turned on. Or rather the switch is flipped but nothing happens. The irrigation system at the Rickety Old Farmhouse is a peculiarly French affair. A logic defying mass of pipes that lead from the well to a strange, bomb shaped, device in the sub basement. Sometimes a tap with a hammer or a wrench does the trick. Today it doesn't. The electrician promises to come tomorrow. Bob follows me into the gloom of the basement to lend a hand. Sophie, prudently, waits at the top of the stairs, supervising.