Monday, May 19, 2014
Time cools, time clarifies, no mood can be maintained through the course of hours.
By the cafe under the arcades a man grooming a horse. The horse munches happily away from a pile of straw on the pavement. The beer and absinthe crowd are too engrossed in their pre-breakfast libations to notice. The horse is still there when we head home after the PON's illicit half croissant. Bob and Sophie watch in silent awe. Bob is wearing that " Blimey ! It's enormous. Wouldn't want to argue with that " look.
Two car wrecks on the road outside the little market town. Heartbreaking. The ritual Saturday evening culling of teenage French boys. 1990's era fast cars, binge drinking and testosterone a recipe for trouble. There was a time when they drank wine, now its spirits. Saturday night the time for 'partying'.
'The fonts' hotel in London staffed entirely by Spanish. There used to be enthusiastic Polish youngsters behind the desk and in the restaurant but with youth unemployment in Spain touching 54% the Poles have been replaced by eager Madrilenos. All are charming and speak perfect English.
Bob and Sophie have a good day racing round the garden ensuring that the field boundaries are where they were yesterday. Happy days.