Sunday, November 19, 2017
Winter upon us. This morning the high sky shimmering with ice crystals. There was a general strike on Thursday but we didn't notice it. In the Post Office the two women behind the counter were working to rule and insisted 'The Font' buy stamps from the automatic machine. '' Sorry, can't help you. We're on strike ".
Last night the local volunteer firemen showed up at the gate to sell their Christmas calendar. I thank them for their service and give them 20 Euros. ' See you same time next year ' they shout out cheerfully when driving off. This is a sentiment I can agree with.
The roses still in bloom.
After our morning walk Angus and the PONs go to the McDonalds by the motorway pay booth. Bob and Sophie are briefly tethered to a red metal bench while I go in and order. A young woman wearing a lot of mascara is mopping the tiles by the Ronald McDonald climbing frame . She is listening to a gaunt faced young man wearing what appears to be a pair of camouflage pyjamas. The camouflage is of the black and grey swirly type much favoured by middle Eastern armies. ISIS chic. The young man has a haircut that is very short at the sides but sticks straight up on top. This is presumably fashionable. The couple appear to have had some form of romantic misunderstanding. Snippets of their conversation drift over to us. '' You're the only girl for me " followed by a more demonstrative " It was only a kiss " followed by an even more demonstrative " Honest ! ".The young lady has stopped swabbing and has turned her attention to emptying the rubbish bins. She works while maintaining a glacial silence.
By the time we leave the young lady is placing new plastic bags in the rubbish bins. She is still ignoring the young man. Angus explains to Bob that young males of the species operate in the belief that exculpatory adverbs make a bad situation better. They rarely do. Honest !
The PONs have their ears plucked and washed with Zymox. Sophie doesn't like her ears being plucked but doesn't object to the Zymox. Bob objects to both.
At the greengrocer we pick up some potatoes for Sunday lunch.
So starts a quiet Sunday in deepest France profonde.
I've never been to a Cheese Cake Factory and was ignorant of its architectural riches : https://www.eater.com/2017/6/21/15835074/cheesecake-factory-interior-design