We're up and out by six. The stone for the terrace is due to be delivered by seven and the builders have promised to be here at seven thirty to start laying it.
At seven fifteen the phone goes. It's the driver from the company that's supplying the stone.'' I'm outside the church but can't see a house with grey shutters ". Still holding the phone I go out to the village green to show him the way.No truck. No driver. It's soon apparent that he's turned up in a village with the same name in a different departement.
The builders, who have meanwhile arrived en masse, stand in the flower beds, smoke cigarettes and a have a conference. There is much shrugging of shoulders. They announce that as they're here they'll finish off the plastering on the terrace and come back in two weeks when they have some 'free time ' . Re-delivery of the stone will need to be arranged.
The PONs take all this in their stride. For them a glorious day of 'throw the furry fox' with the morose lads lies ahead. When you're two years old the zest for life and mischief is unquenchable .
This made me smile : http://www.theguardian.com/world/2015/jun/09/denied-nazis-worlds-oldest-doctoral-student-awarded-phd-aged-102