Suddenly.

A quiet Sunday morning. The only sounds the bees working in the wisteria over the front door and the frogs in the village pond. Bob decides to add a throaty good morning woof to the mix. No church organ could match the enthusiastic joyfulness of a PON boys Sunday start the day woof. Sophie's tail wags twenty to the dozen. 

The Old Farmer wanders across the lane to tell us that he's driving to Avignon for four or five days. It's the tenth anniversary of the accident that killed his wife, youngest daughter and German Shepherd. He's going back to the scene for the first time since it happened. He then intends to have an expensive meal and get drunk. We are getting to admire The Old Farmer and his attitude to life.

He tells us that wisteria flowers dusted in flour and fried are delicious.  

At the bakers a difficult choice.

Some potatoes from the glum man in the beret .

In the greengrocers the first of the Crimean tomatoes.

This is the impractical colour of the carpets in the new car. Hard enough to keep clean if the driver or  passenger has dirty feet. Impossible if you are carrying PONs with perma-muddy paws and who knows what covered snouts. Dog owners cars don't age gracefully. They age suddenly.