The telephone repairman shows up to determine why the internet connection is so slow. He clambers into the attic and after a suitable pause clambers down again. Twenty minutes are spent plugging a small electronic device into various wall sockets. The phrase '' Well I never " is frequently repeated. He goes. The line remains agonizingly slow.
Two car loads of visitors show up on the village green. The passengers get out and walk into the churchyard where they stand around the swaying Jesus. They look at it expectantly. It's a calm wind free morning so there is little swaying going on. The visitors leave. The PONs monitor this in silence.
The tykes whistle, rattle sticks across the bars of the gate and shout out woof-woof as they head off to school. Bob leaps on his stump seat at the gate and glares. Sophie stands on her hind legs and barks. This morning the family diva utilizes her deep throaty bark. This sounds as though she has a lifelong eighty a day high tar habit.
After our shared croissant we detour into the little market town to see the the new restaurant that's opened. '' A French take on the vibrant success of the San Francisco Thai food truck scene " says the menu at the front door. How this will go down in deepest, deepest France profonde remains to be seen.
The gentleman's clothier on the high street has a new display of seasonal party gear.The black leather edged dinner jacket, black shirt and black bow tie a look that might perhaps suit a less conservative clientele.
What a catchy tune : https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rFZjBZ0XLAk