Saturday, November 28, 2015
The overbite reappears.
We're off on a shopping expedition to the departmental capital. 45 minutes down the motorway. By eight an impatient Sophie is in her harness and at the front door. Her brother, who is experiencing a joy overload at the thought of going in the car,has to be 'encouraged' into his harness.
It's another day of national mourning. The Prefecture is bedecked with flags. Five at every first floor window. Outside, in the spot where the SS hanged a group of resistance fighters from an acacia tree, a small memorial to the recent events has been set up.
We go to the fancy cheese shop. There is something about their cheeses that is exceptional. Is it the suppliers, the selection or the fact that they have a variety of storerooms to keep them in pristine condition ?
The lady ahead of us slowly chooses no less than nine separate cheeses. '' My daughter is coming for lunch. She loves cheese ". The bearded young cheese monger, sensing our impatience, walks out from behind the counter and gives Bob and Sophie some slivers of Tomme de Savoie. The angelic duos tails thwack-thwack-thwack against the door in delight. Bob has another joy overload. He does his soft shoe shuffle and shows his overbite.
Onto the wine merchant who insists we try a bottle of white St.Joseph 2014. The PONs are less keen on the wine merchant but are happy to be allowed inside to observe what's going on.
Just another quiet day with dogs in deepest, deepest France profonde. Events too inconsequential for a diary but too important to go completely unrecorded.