Sunday, August 27, 2017
It's the way of the world.
The hot air driving up from Spain collides with the chill air from the Atlantic. Overnight we have another almighty mountain storm. The house shakes, the down pipes gurgle, shutters slam. Through it all the PONs sleep blissfully on, not even the rattle of hail against the windows wakes them.
For Bob and Sophie one good thing about spending your first twelve weeks at a kennels in the back country surrounded by goats and horses - storms hold absolutely no fears.
Now it's darker in the mornings we're not out until six forty five. Light enough (just) for any trigger happy hunter to see us and light enough for Angus to be able to use his pocket full of black bags ( dog owners will understand ). The aged donkey in the field at the crossroads has already made it out of the barn and is lying, legs tucked under him, on the grass. We stop and say hello. I used to bring carrots but getting onto his feet is now difficult. The PONs settle down on the grass verge as if greeting a donkey is something completely usual - which for them it is. From the look of the donkey, all aches and rheumy eyes and ribs, I'm guessing this will be his last summer. The first thing the 30 year old farmer does in the morning is open the barn door to let him out. The younger donkeys sleep on but this old one gets fed, stroked, then wanders out, settles down and watches the world pass.When the farmer was a boy the donkey used to carry him, and his brothers, on its back down to the stream. Old friendships count .
The decorator was supposed to start on the church porch last Monday. He didn't show. This morning the mayor is in the churchyard with the man with the bulbous red nose and the man with the Yorkie. The storms have dislodged some roof tiles, water has worked its way in and an alarming crack has appeared in the arch above the door.
The crack runs up into the bell tower. A builder will be called.
Music for a Sunday morning. This little Danish video is gloriously innocent :