The Hungarian stonemasons are up early power washing the concrete where they'd cooked dinner. The iron tripod has been moved to one side while the cooking pot is rinsed in the swimming pool. All the Hungarians have walrus moustaches. For the second night in a row Bob and Sophie were tormented by the scent of of roasting sausage ( and lots of garlic ). After dinner the stonemasons brought out their mobile phones and sit on the steps of the war memorial. Loud and lengthy conversations could be heard until well after midnight.
The billionaires must be planning to spend the summer here. Mid afternoon a fleet of trucks arrive to relay the tarmac on the road that leads to the chateau gates. There's grit and tarmac left over so the car park in front of the town hall is also 'spruced up'. Is it cynical to wonder if we'd get such good treatment ?
As if this activity wasn't enough the grass cutters show up to trim the verges.
Bob and Sophie look on in stunned silence. Bob wears his ' this is busier than Piccadilly Circus ' look.
5 comments:
So much for the peaceful life in France Profonde...
Sounds like street theatre.....
Lots of hurly-burly. More to come? Country life won't be the same this summer.
Is it cynical to suspect that the road to the billionaire's Chateau is being upgraded so that their sons can give those fancy new cars full throttle? We, too, fear for the peace and tranquillity of your little corner of France profonde.
Perhaps one evening Bob and Sophie will be able to steal out and help the Hungarians eat their sausages!
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