Thursday, December 28, 2017


Over the holidays Sophie has amazed us by demonstrating a liking for cucumber, pear and celery. Less surprisingly she also likes caviar, blinis, turkey and Roquefort. Bob likes turkey and Roquefort.

This morning it's chilly but blue skies lure us out.

Halfway down the High Street the wind picks up and the sky turns black.

When it starts to hail we take shelter in a most unwelcoming little cafe. The patrons eye up the foreigners and their canine companions with a suspicion bordering on disdain. No bowl of water of croissant crumbs here. 

Strong winds and grey skies signal a day at home. We think of clearing up the dining room in readiness for Hogmanay. Angus decides he'll do it tomorrow.

The PONs are told they're either in the house or out in the garden. Bob settles on a compromise. He lies at the front door, nose out , tail in. As gusts of arctic wind deposit wisteria leaves in the hall he is informed by ' The Font ' that lying in the door is not an option. So much for diplomatic compromise.

Despite, or perhaps because of the weather, the tykes are out and about on their motor bikes. By this stage of the holidays their mother must be at her wits end. In the evening there is a great gathering of white vans outside the village hall. The local hunters are preparing for their New Years Day hunt. Angus hopes it snows for them. The hunters here are better than the ones we encountered in Italy but they still have a swaggering arrogance that says this place is mine. One wouldn't want to get in their way.

Sophie's coat has got to the stage where something needs to be done about it but 'the something' can wait until warmer weather.

This article from the London Review of Books is an acerbic tour de force . Royalists look away now :


MOPL said...

Sophie must like to cleanse her palate and after some of the dessicated items she consumes it is no wonder why.OMG a NY day to spend the day indulging in some champagne.

WFT Nobby said...

Hmm. Lucky Sophie and Bob. Gail always refuses to part with any Roquefort that finds its way onto her plate.
Toodle pip!

Coppa's girl said...

Your weather sounds like ours here, yesterday, an arctic hurricane. A day for inside or out, but not lying in the doorway !

Jean said...

I find the hunt very frightening, the sight of men in orange vests waving guns around, pointing them across the road sometimes. We have frequently encountered groups of deer and wild boar running for their lives across country roads, not to mention the stray hunting dogs left behind after the hunt has long finished.
Numerous people are accidentally killed by hunters every year, according to the French newspapers, including one poor woman who paid the price recently for living in her rural retreat, shot in her own garden through the hedge by some moron shooting at a hare in the field. Friends who take part in the hunt try to reassure me that the regulations are stringent and accidents are rare but the whole thing still makes me nervous.

Sheila said...

The article from the LRB is fascinating. The last paragraph points to exactly what I was thinking as I read.

Yamini MacLean said...

Hari OM
Clearly Bob is the dog with the more refined palate. Sophie, more of the Princess Margaret Set! YAM xx

Bella Roxy & Macdui said...

Restaurant 'de Bastard'?

50 and counting said...

Our Collie loves Brie, Gorgonzola, the smellier the better. His doctor explained to our son (who technically is the dog's human) that his long snout was built to appreciate fine cheese! We'd been told off by our son for spoiling his dog! Always good to have an enabler for a Vet!.

Our boy has never know the joy of cafes. Banned in Canada. He's managed the patio of one pub but only got in because the owner was a Lassie fan!

Happy New Year. I must ask is your china the pattern called Frederick the Great by Rosenthal? Sorry I'm nosy.

Emm said...

I, too, was curious about the china, but thought it looks like a Wedgewood pattern used in my family.

Angus said...

Have looked and that one is Howard by Wedgewood.