The pony tailed man who played Chopins Death March on the piano in the departure hall of Toulouse airport should perhaps take a sensitivity training course. Chopsticks would have been a better choice.
Red, white and blue berets for sale. Could only be France.
The language of Shakespeare. The language of Milton. The language of a central London coffee shop. 'Table and Sit are for customer only'. Angus orders an Americano. What he gets is something covered in whipped cream and sprinkled with chocolate powder. It's so sweet it's quite undrinkable.
Back in France the PONs are delighted that their flock is reunited. Bob takes the credit for finding me. So does Sophie. The gardeners are here cutting the long laurel hedge that runs along the lane. Sophie takes a hands on approach to hedge trimming. She is soon 'encouraged' indoors.
The Old Farmer is sitting up after his operation. He claims to be in no pain. The Belgian lady has been tasked with buying cat food and making sure that the bowl outside the garage is kept topped up. We shall go to see him in hospital tomorrow.
Good to hear that Bob and Sophie found you wandering and brought you home to ROFH. Perhaps they could be rewarded with a sausage. Hope the Old Farmer is on the mend but probably feels no pain due to the medication. The other thought is the lady friend ensuring that she keeps the cats' food bowl replenished. I hope that this is not done on the way to Yoga Classes. The mind boggles at the possible picture.
Our hedges are being trimmed next week - perhaps Sophie would like to pop round and lend a paw here?
Did you weaken and buy a beret, Angus? Good to know the Old Farmer has had his op.
A particularly creative use of the 'greengrocer's apostrophe' there at Caffé Nero.
Not to mention that there seems to be only one customer.
A piano at the Toulouse airport is new. When we found ourselves in the deepest bowels of Atlanta's airport, in a vast, low-ceilinged food court where the air was permeated by the odors of a frightening variety of fast foods, the pianists were the sole ray of hope. We enjoyed them coming and going--one played jazz and the other played old standards.
So glad that you are back home safe and that Bob and Sophie have "found" you.
I am overjoyed that the Old Farmer's operation went well and he is already sitting up in bed.
When you visit him in hospital please tell him all of us here on your blog are cheering for his speedy recovery.
Surely Blue White and Red in France?
What a glorious picture of Bob gazing at the church.
Beautiful article. The 'Death March' seemed so inappropriate. Perhaps there aren't too many Chopin fans who will recognise it.
Maybe the 'Death March' is played because you must face the long lines to get through security.
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