Delight.

Six in the morning. Bob is the first out. His sister close behind. Sophie lets out a high pitched squeal of delight. She does this every morning. Now they're three and a half years old you'd think that the excitement of starting a new day might have begun to wear off. Not a bit of it. The PONs know that THIS is going to be the best day ever.

Into the little market town. We park by the river and walk up the High Street. Lots of lamp posts to sniff and christen. There are dark shop doorways to explore. 

Some window dresser has a sense of humour.

To the bakers. We buy half a dozen of the days specials. The PONs get given some slivers of flaky pastry. Sophie lets out her second involuntary squeak of delight.

On our way home we pass a ceremony at the War Memorial. The anniversary of General de Gaulles radio broadcast from London. A very old soldier, supported by the local member of parliament and a smart ADC, reads out the words of the broadcast.

The Song of the Partisans is sung, followed by wreath laying and then the Marseillaise. As the band strikes up the first chord of the national anthem a tramp and his dog appear. The dog, affably but unceremoniously, wanders into the middle of the ceremony. It gets glared at by the men in uniform. The tramp makes frantic whistling noises to call it back. The dog rolls on its back and ignores the uniformed men and its owner.

Bob isn't interested in this new arrival but Sophie suddenly becomes alert to another canine presence. It's a this point Angus thinks it might be a good idea to load the PONs into the back of the car. Dog owners can sense when a family diva is about to protest about being upstaged.

The weather still changeable. Sophie opts for a morning of sitting on her garden table barking at the wind.

So passes a Sunday in deepest, deepest France profonde.