Sunday, December 17, 2017

'' There was no one there but the pews were always full "

Eight in the morning. A crescent moon slowly sinking towards the horizon as we head out of the front door. There's  a tabby cat in the garden. The PONs chase it. The cat, which has been asleep on the metal table under the terrace, screeches and rockets up into the high branches of an acacia tree. The PONs expend considerable energy looking, ineptly and theatrically, for it. There is much snorting. They finally give up and we head off for our morning tour of the village.  When we get back Bob sits on his stump seat and observes the Belgian lady getting into The Old Farmers venerable Mercedes.

Angus has had zero luck in working out how to deal with the sedimented feed pipe from the tank to the furnace. Since the tank was installed six years ago we've had a concrete patio laid. This of course goes right over the offending pipe. I find a specialist plumber who says he'll come out to look at in late January. He adds for good measure '' You've got an English accent that you could cut with a knife ". I thank him.

The bird feeders are replenished twice a day with sunflower seeds. Blue Tits, Goldfinches and Bull Finches much in evidence. Sophie glares at them all.

Back in the village the ladies of the Beautiful Bye Ways Committee are busy setting up the creche in the church. When they finish the church is locked. It will stay locked until the New Year. They've carried on decorating a creche since the village last had a priest in 1954. The locals may find this tradition charming . Angus thinks setting up a creche in an empty locked church is spooky in an Edgar Allan Poe '' At midnight there was no one there but the pews were always full " way.

Bob finds a knotted purple ( really its a most unferocious shade of  pink but I don't want to tell him )  rope toy under an olive tree. His delight is palpable. There is no sign of the cat in the acacia.

Just another Sunday morning in deepest, deepest France profonde. A record of those little things too unimportant for a diary but which make life, life.

' Let duty be well peformed '. Sunday morning music :


MOPL said...

I wonder what Bob is thinking as he intently observes the OF and the Belgian lady. It would be more than a penny for those thoughts

WFT Nobby said...

Angus, I'm sure Bob is secure enough in his masculinity not to feel threatened by the idea of a pink toy. I have a pink collar light to wear in the park on dark mornings and it doesn't bother me one bit.
Toodle pip!

Unknown said...

If the lovely photo of the sunrise pictures the eastern horizon, then I suspect the moon is rising not setting.
Bob and Sophie's touseled heads always bring a smile.

~Kim at Golden Pines~ said...

It is an interesting tradition at the church. I've no doubt Edgar Allan Poe would have agreed and maybe even Stephen King could write a pretty good story about it.

Yamini MacLean said...

Hari Om
Don't think I had twigged that your church isn't used - even for festivals. Am really rather glad the ladies are still giving it some living purpose... if a tad surreal! YAM xx

Sheila said...

It's been a while since we lived in New England and dealt with an oil furnace, but I seem to remember that there were special additives one could put in the tank to dissolve sediments, keeping the lines and the nozzle clear. No fun living on the edge like that, not knowing whether the heat is going to stay on.
Wonderful profile shot of Bob on his stump.

rottrover said...

And I have a pink water bowl.


rottrover said...

The new iPhone really does take beautiful pictures.

Bella Roxy & Macdui said...

Concrete or paving or plants will ALWAYS be over the part that needs digging. Just one of life's truths.