Tuesday, August 12, 2014
I am not afraid of storms for I am learning how to sail my ship.
Six thirty. Bob and Sophie slurp noisily from their bowl while I go to get the car. On the morning walk we spy clouds of smoke. The local farmers burning off the wheat in the fields. This is illegal but the older farmers get up early, set light to the stubble and claim the fire was caused by lightning.
The cafe in the little market town still closed. We go to a neighbouring village. Home to a wonderful restaurant, a perfect ( if over restored) 12th century Cluniac church and one of those cafes run by a slightly eccentric woman who today is wearing a floral ballgown and wild flowers in her hair. "Dedans ou dehors" she demands. 'Dehors' I reply. She snorts. My freshly brewed coffee is brought out in a white bone china cup and saucer. The PONs, unbidden, get given a bowl of water . The coffee costs me 80 cents.
Loud peels of thunder interrupt our tour of the village. Bob is oblivious to the thunder. Sophie isn't. As the hail cascades down she puts on her best PON princess act. '' I am not afraid of storms for I am learning how to sail my ship ". She gets her hair tousled and settles down in the back of the car under her brother.