The week has flown by. 'Events' seem to have dominated it. First Orlando. Then, for the first time since 1812 ( other than by Irish republicans ), the assassination of a sitting British MP .
At The Rickety Old Farmhouse we're coping with changeable June weather. The baritone grumble of far away thunderstorms a constant background . The garden, which by this time of the year has usually been baked solid, is loving the hourly rain showers. Exotic bulbs, planted long ago and then forgotten, spring to life.
Coming back from our pre-breakfast walk we see one of the old farmers heading off to hospital for a cataract operation. This being France, the hospital has sent a taxi to collect him and offered his wife a room in a nearby hotel. She has just had a painful hip operation and is in no fit state to go . From the front seat of the car he waves at us as he passes. The old man smiles at Bob. Angus recognizes that 'male' look that's determined to hide the fact that he wishes he wasn't having to do this alone.
'The Font' goes round to the old mans wife with a bottle of wine. Sometimes the knowledge that someone is thinking about you is the best prescription for a speedy recovery.
Bad news about The Very Old Farmer. He's tried to get out on his tractor again. This time he's fallen off it. The Belgian lady finds him lying on the ground . He's bruised and unsure of where he is and what he's doing. The SAMU are called and take him to the hospital. The Belgian lady tells me they displayed great kindness.
This weekend the social services will determine whether he can be allowed home or whether he should be put in a maison d'acceuil . The fact that they're assessing him tells me the answer.
For Bob and Sophie life is a whirl of dozing, chasing invisible threats and racing from one end of the orchard to the other.
After thirty years I'm reading Saul Bellow again. Was it easier reading him thirty years ago ? It's heavy going now. This line catches my eye : ' We are funny creatures. We don't see the stars as they are, so why do we love them ? They are not small gold objects but endless fire ".