Two glasses of pastis.

The angelic duo are full recovered from their ordeal. Both have segued back into their routine as if nothing untoward has happened. Their owners are taking rather longer than usual to readjust to life in deepest France profonde.

It's May 1st. A national holiday. Everything, including the 7 day a week store, is firmly closed. There's another national holiday next Friday. Then there's Ascension Day. France is pretty much boarded up for the month. Despite it being a holiday the builder shows up to let us know that he's planning to start work on the terrace on May 18th.

There's a family of owls nesting in  the plane tree on the other side of the lane. Mother owl, father owl and no less than five unblinking baby owls. The baby owls are rather contentedly fat. 'The Font' suggests 'fledgling' might be a better description for them. If that's the case then Miss Sophie is maintaining a 'fledgling' like figure.

We pick up some strawberries from the farmers wife. We're taking three punnets a day.  Another week or so and we'll move onto melons and then, in high summer, peaches.

We return from the farm to find Madame Bay and her friend Renee ( pronounced Re-knee ) sitting in the courtyard chatting away. Bob bolts indoors. A lily of the valley scented hug in Madame Bay copious decolletage something he has learnt to avoid. Renee's grand daughter has told her that Chicago is close to Canada and Canada is cold in November. The retired gendarmes committee have therefore decided to fly to Miami for their annual break. '' You can trust the weather there " says Madame Bay with a surprising degree of conviction. It's barely ten thirty but there are two glasses of pastis on the small table in front of them.