We are beginning to get the '' why are you doing this to me ? " look. Sophie is becoming a very bored girl. 5 weeks of recuperation under our belt - only another 11 to go.
Yesterday was All Saints Day. A national holiday here. The schools shut for two weeks for half term. The annoying eight year old brat who rattles the bars on the gate with a stick while whistling ( both activities designed to drive any dog wild ) has gone off to his grandparents in Lyon with his equally delinquent eleven year old brother. '' Our loss is Lyons gain " says 'The Font' when I impart this piece of news.
The village busy with relatives coming to spruce up the family plots.
The Very Old Farmers slab is covered in chrysanthemums and faux roses. In the absence of the VOFs son Madame Bay has made sure everything is ship shape and Bristol fashion. She grave tends in red canvas shoes with amazingly thick cork soles ( to keep out the cold ), red leggings, a three quarter length grey jacket and a voluminous yellow pashmina. A black turban fastened with a piece of costume jewellery in the shape of a star completes this practical ensemble. There are half a dozen other octogenarian ladies at work alongside her. The graveyard a hive of fashionable labour. Angus is asked to fill the watering cans.
Bob comes with me to the cheese stall at the market. He is given a little Tomme de Pyrenees. His tail does its metronome on steroids routine, going backwards and forwards and round and round at high speed. For humans a sliver of cheese is a fairly mundane gift. For a dog it's a moment when heavens veil is lifted.
The bakers quite frankly a disappointment. By the time we get there they've almost sold out.
In the afternoon there's three hours of solid guarding from the stump seat. Visitors come backwards and forwards to the churchyard with plants and candles. All are individually greeted.
A PON boys work is never done.
11 comments:
Ah, Madame Bay. Queen of the graveyard catwalk.
You can keep the cakes, but I'll have a tranche of each of the cheeses, please !
What would the village do without you and Bob, Angus? One guarding, and one filling watering cans, both essential occupations.
So glad Madame Bay is taking care of the VOF's site.
That tarte au citron looks pretty good, but perhaps not quite up to a sliver of cheese.
Grave-tending and gardening are no excuse to slouch about in unfashionable get-up. Chapeau to Mme. Bay, both for style and for taking care of the Very Old Farmer's grave.
You are my dessert every day - I so look forward to what is going in your part of the world. I love that you share the every day events - it brings be back to reality and counters the "news". You touch more people than you know I think.
LOL!!
Our PON boy worked through the night. An opossum outside in the back garden that could only be dealt with by indoor barking. And barking. And barking.
You paint a lovely picture of the busy little graveyard scene. Madame Bay is a gem, along with the nice man filling the water cans.
I’ll gladly accept any of the sweets that you find disappointing.
Hope Angus didn't let the team down, by not being a fashionably-dressed water boy.
Mr. Beau and I are with You Stephanie! Madame Bay is a Beautiful and Special Gem.
Thank You Angus for a great blog to wake up to !! Now . . . GO CUBS ! ! !
Yes, go Cubs!
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