Bob wakes early and sticks a wet nose in my ear. He then pokes the bedside table. It rocks ever so slightly, one leg making a highly satisfying thunk-thunk noise on the floor. He does this five times before remembering that the bedroom is out of bounds. He leaves - tail banging against the wardrobe doors in the dressing room.
The usual morning pandemonium. The PONs hurtle out of the door and check the garden for c-a-t-s. After ten minutes they return. Bob has his harness put on. Sophie shrieks to let me know that's she should have hers put on first. 'No chance of forgetting you' I find myself saying aloud.
Into the little market town. The PONs walk past the bandstand ( which Bob christens ) , alongside the church and into the town square.
There are a group of pilgrims resting in the shade.
The cafe was recently written up in the New York Times. The author described it as one of the best cafes in France. He clearly didn't try the coffee. We take a table inside out of the sun. The PONs settle on the floor and the barman brings them over a bowl of water . He also brings over two of those tiny, tasteless little biscuits the French have with their coffee. These are received with two almost inaudible whimpers of delight.
Back at home we take a brief detour to see the calves. No births overnight but Thursdays new arrivals are already growing quickly.
The joiner stops his car to say 'Bonjour' and to let me know that less than half the villagers bothered to turn out to vote in Sundays parliamentary elections. An unusual development in a village where the turnout is usually 100%. 'What's the point ? ' he adds in what may, or may not be, a telling aside.
Seven thirty on a Monday morning and the PONs have already had an exciting day.
11 comments:
Was the cafe reviewer writing on behalf of PONs perhaps?
Toodle pip!
Bertie.
Is the café aware of its international fame?
I expected a comment on a certain rugby match "down under"!
I'm a fairly recent convert to the world of Bob and Sophie. Can't imagine starting a day without them, now. Thank you
Great delight here. The Scots beating the Aussies. A moment of great delight - doubly so because it's so rare.
They have noticed a marked uptick in American visitors. Quite what the NYT readers expect - and what they get - might be two completely different things. I did hear a lady at one of the outside tables regaling her husband with the observation " This is the real France. Nothings changed in a hundred years ". The locals might not completely agree.
Or beer drinkers. The cafe is big on pre-breakfast beer sales to the large local polyester shell suit crowd.
I love how Bob starts your morning each day; a gentle wet poke in your ear brings a smile to my face every time.
( Great picture of Bob looking at his little sis. ) Bob and Sophie, the perfect way to start my day.
Yes, the first picture is a prize.
My dog Inca also wakes me when she thinks it's time she should be up ! This starts from sometime around 5:00 a.m., and then at regular intervals until our normal getting up time, at around 6:15 these days. Her method is a soggy kiss, or a lick along any exposed skin, and then she walks around the bed shaking it like mad with her shoulder and tail ! I think I prefer Bob's more delicate approach, in spite of the wet ear !
We heard that many people chose to go to the beach rather than vote. Love Bob's morning forgetfulness.
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