Hang on to your youthful enthusiasms -- you’ll be able to use them better when you’re older.

Bob wanders into the bedroom at 5:50 am. He's ( supposedly ) not allowed in the bedroom. He sticks a cold wet nose in my ear and then satisfied I'm awake, quickly exits. This silent routine plays to something deep in the canine psyche. 1) He's doing something he shouldn't ( always fun ) and 2) he's rounding up his flock to get the day started. When I come out of the bedroom door he feigns complete surprise. Complete surprise in this sense means turning on his back and having a leisurely pre-breakfast tickle while his tail thwacks noisily and rapidly on the tiled floor. No doubting that somewhere along the line Bob had an extra dose of 'happy' added to his DNA.

This morning is the day to go and see the accountant in Toulouse to fill in the tax forms. The accountant agrees to be in 'early'. Bob can't understand why he's not coming with me. Angus is there by seven thirty. There's lots of space in the underground car park and lots of space in the cafe on the square. The only other clients student couples sharing croissants and whispering intimately. That age where penury and passion coexist quite happily. 

The streets empty. The restaurant umbrellas tightly furled.

In France most shops and offices don't open until ten so at this hour there's little traffic. In fact there's no traffic. In the road by the cathedral a solitary dog owner can be seen walking his companion.

Another cup of coffee at a cafe on a side street. All the locals seem to know each other. There is much kissing of cheeks. The waiter brings me copies of Le Monde and Le Figaro to read. The topic of conversation at the neighbouring tables how hot it'll be today. '' It's going to get above thirty " says a woman next to me to no one in particular. She then returns to filling out her crossword puzzle.

Back at The Rickety Old Farmhouse Sophie and Bob take 'The Font' on a lengthy tour of the village.