Another of those 'Please Lord let it rain' type days. We're out at six. Too many critters still up and about in the ditches for Bob to be let off his lead. A badger scurries across the track in front of us. Bob's keen to give chase.
The sunflowers are enjoying the heat - as are the village retirees. We find The Old Farmer tinkering with the engine of an ancient Ford Transit truck. A vehicle we've never seen before. He's replacing the air filter before loading his fellow octogenarians and nonagenarians in the back and taking them for a spin .
With the mercury rising towards 40 the patriarchs clamber, with the aid of chairs and upturned potato boxes, onto the truck. Madame Bay and her friend Renee ( pronounced Re-knee ) are the last on board. The Old Farmer is there to help them up. They tell him to mind where he puts his hands. The sound of laughter turns into shrieks of delight as they head off past the chateau towards the crossroads. Madame Bays chiffon scarf trails behind the Ford like a pendant in the breeze. A rubenesque Grace Kelly. From time to time the sound of carousing and not quite synchronised gear changing drifts up across the valley towards us.
Oh to be a Latin unburdened by concerns over health and safety. The absence of seats ( or seat belts ), the overcrowding, the fact that some ( Madame Bay ) are standing, the question of insurance ( or the probable lack of it ), the age of the vehicle or the fact The Old Farmers eyesight isn't as good as it once was. These are all things that weigh on the mind of a Presbyterian. There again why should you bother about things like that when it's hot, you're 90 years old and living in a village in deepest, deepest France profonde ? What could possibly go wrong ?
Bob and Sophie think it's the best day ever.
11 comments:
What a hilarious picture you conjure up ! Why bother with mundane things such as seats, seat belts or insurance when there's fun to be had and you're eighty or ninety years old? Good for the Old Farmer - he's such a character.
What a wonderful place is deepest France profonde !
Maybe it's also a generation thing. I've noticed that many of those, like my Dad, who survived active service in World War Two, had a very different attitude to 'heath and safety'. Despite being by most measures a most upstanding and law abiding citizen, he never really could accept that car seat belts were necessary, nor that there was anything wrong with having a few drinks at the restaurant then driving home. Compared to the risks of being a fighter pilot, I guess such things seemed unimportant.
Cheers, Gail.
We have the rain. Hope the joy riders remembered some liquid refreshment.....
To the long list of worries could be added the stainless steel tea urn filled with The Old Farmers home brewed 2014 vintage wine..
I'm totally with you Angus -- But at least they're having fun.
Of course it's the PON's best day ever - until tomorrow that is, or whenever there are sausages to be had, or numerous games of throw the furry fox ! The only thing missing, to make life absolutely perfect, is that illicit half-croissant each morning.
What fun is being had by all beings, even in the excessive heat! Bailey Bob knows where the AC vents are in each room, and aligns himself with them upon entering the room. He too is having cool fun!
Sadly, illicit half croissants remain a thing of the past although the waiter at the 'fancy' cafe by the Canal du Midi does let them have a langue du chat. For Sophie this represents an ' I've died and gone to heaven ' moment. Sophie's 'moments' are not quietly restrained.
I hope that when I'm 90 I'll be able to go joy-riding in a friend's ancient truck. You paint a joyous word picture, had me laughing out loud.
Oh, and the Verify on that comment was "1926". Surely the year some of those joy-riders might have been born.
Oh I would love to book a seat in the Ford on its next run, sounds like great fun!
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