Monday morning at six. Sophie utters a piercing shriek.This lets us know that she's awake and alone. Sophie doesn't do alone. Only now has she become aware of the fact that her brother has taken to sleeping at the top of the stairs while she sleeps downstairs.
Bob and Angus go to the hardware store for a replacement Lamb on a Rope. We bought two Lambs on Ropes last week but they've been shredded. Such is the power of enforced boredom wedded to a diva temperament. A stuffed hog and a furry worm were also bought but they lasted 3:28 minutes and 2:13 minutes respectively before being completely destuffed and desqueaked. This is called throwing money away.
The hardware store is doing a special on roof mounted lights for agricultural convoy vehicles. These by law are required to travel ahead of combine harvesters when they're on the road. The lady at the check out tells me they're being sold at 'unbeatable prices '. Maybe it's the presence of Bob that makes her think I might have a combine harvester in my life. Either that or I'm beginning to look like a French farmer.
The next door shop sells chewing gum dispensers. This is something you don't see in a window display every day.
Sunday in the village was quiet. The Old Farmer and the Belgian lady set off for Avignon in the venerable Ford Transit motor home. As they cross the speed bump the Belgian lady's door slides opens. The motor home stops and The Old Farmer gets out, crosses over and slams it shut. '' That's better. You're safe now " he says with an air of authority. Cynics might wonder if the word 'safe' applies to a journey in a forty five year old motor home held together with glass fibre infill.
Visitors in a silver Mercedes come to see the house owned by the Parisian engineer. The house has been standing empty with a 'For Sale' sign on it ever since the engineers wife arrived to discover that her husband wasn't at a conference in Bordeaux but was entertaining his secretary in the jacuzzi. The wife took the opportunity to smash the lights and slash the tyres on his Renault and throw his clothes out of an upstairs window. While the would be buyers look at the property the accompanying estate agent washes his car.
So passes another day in deepest, deepest France profonde. Through it all Bob guards.
A thought for Monday morning : http://econlog.econlib.org/archives/2016/10/non-materialist.html