The weather in lyrical mood. A morning of sunshine and scudding clouds. Loic, the heavily bifocaled gardener, will be here around nine to collect the leaves and blow them into piles. Deconstructing the piles will keep the PONs happily occupied until lunchtime.
Bob and Angus sit on the storm drain and discuss world affairs. We wonder what a Troika of Tyranny is. Sophie, ever independent ( and easily bored ), wanders off down the hill in search of anything vaguely edible. Dessicated shrew, road kill, badger poo - she's not fussy. The young garagiste races by in his little souped up Citroen. He slams on the brakes , reverses back , winds down the window ( how many cars have wind down windows ? ) and informs me he's marrying his girlfriend. " I'll let you know what day it is so that you can be there ". He is heartily congratulated although I'm surprised to be invited as we've done nothing other than buy a replacement brake light and exchange half a dozen pleasantries before.
The bakers selection somewhere south of interesting but north of lacklustre.
'The Font' has asked me to buy some lamb chops to try out a new recipe in the NYT. All sorts of strange French cuts are on offer. All of them are the same price. We settle on a kilo of Cote Filet d'Agneau. Bob and Sophie watch the transaction with great interest.
Today's croissant could be anything, anywhere. Some sort of generic white bread - chewy and stringy. I'd rank it 4/10 , the PONs give it an enthusiastic 11/10. Perhaps the curly ends really are the best bits ?
Another day in a little French village where nothing happens.
Country music meets China : https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TnbHVcm5MGI
This advert ( despite what you read in the papers ) a reminder that that civility is still alive and well in America : https://twitter.com/BostonGlobe/status/1057629033251422208