Warm and mild. Winter, for a while, on hold. A line of cloud over the mountains.
Bob and Angus sit on the storm drain and put the world to rights. Angus observes that President Trump has spent more time with Japanese Prime Minister Abe than any other world leader. A quiet pivot to Asia. Bob leans into me and is told ( as he's told every morning ) that this is 'his' country. We wave at the young garagiste on his motor bike. Sophie finds a twig that she's keen to show me but not share.
Back at home the family diva sits on the garden table and is groomed. The hair round here eyes is cut so she can see. Sophie lies on her back , waves her legs in the air and emits loud banshee howls. This is her way of letting us know she's happy. 'The Font' observes that this is most unladylike. Sophie does a reprise of her slaughtered pig impersonation. Her hair is in one of its growth phases. It seems to be adding an inch a week.
'The Font' uses the good weather to start cutting the rose bushes back. Vases are filled with blooms. The house awash with scent . A strangely religious looking vase is found in the cellar. Neither of us can remember ever having seen it before. The body is made of glass, the inside of the neck and the base made from brass. The picture on the front is some form of transfer - surely it can't have been painted on ? It's difficult to tell whether the image is a religious one ( there's a serious figure in sack cloth looking skyward ) or very pagan. Most of the figures seem to be drinking or in the process of what a younger generation might term ' making out '. The art of pouring bronze into glass to make the neck and base surely a difficult one. We give up trying to work out the processes involved in its manufacture.
To the chocolate shop for an advent calendar.
And a difficult decision between an Opera and a Caroline. We choose the Opera.
Bob and Sophie get to share a wholemeal biscuit which, all things considered, is a pretty good start to the day.
A cure for that Monday morning feeling :