The gardeners arrive to finish off what they were supposed to have finished yesterday. To show them who's boss Bob christens the new lavender plants they've brought. He also christens the tyres on their flat bed truck.
Loic , the heavily bifocaled leaf blower, blows leaves into piles. Bob follows along behind pouncing in the piles and sending the leaves flying. Loic remains oblivious to the chaos unfolding behind him.
Sophie makes it quite clear that she should be with her brother and doesn't need to be house bound for another six weeks.
Off with Bob to the little market town. He trots along happily. Drooly but happy.
We buy some Olivet - a bit like cinder coated Camembert.
The cheese monger asks me what the English for cindre is.
'Like the drug' he says.
"No, that's hash" I reply.
The other shoppers wait while he practises saying ash and hash.
Bob gets a little Poivre d'Ane which he likes.
Home to unload the car and then head out along the ridge while Sophie and 'The Font' have breakfast. Every morning Angus sits on the cover of the storm drain, the male PON beside him. Every morning Bob is told this is his country and has his ears scratched. This morning is no different.
Down at the little waterfall he stares at the minnows and does his best at fishing. He finally gives up and has a long drink.
Those happy routines too unimportant for a diary but too important not to be completely forgotten.