Monday, December 3, 2018
Monday morning. A vision of loveliness attaches herself to my ankles as I go round the house opening up the shutters. Sophie has decided that today is best started on a foundation of ear scrunches and tickles.
To the florist to buy some flowers. The florists is run by a mother and her two daughters. They have a thing for pink. They are not particularly interested in their customers. While I pay for some freesias they maintain a spirited conversation among themselves. The younger of the two daughters is thinking of moving in with her boyfriend. Neither mother or elder sister approve. The credit card is handed over and returned without any acknowledgment of my presence.
The bakers has reverted to a Monday morning sobriety.
Time to pick up two pineapples in the greengrocers. They come from La Reunion so therefore class as French. When did pineapples start to cost $10 apiece ?
Some steak for dinner.
The conversation in the cafe is the continuing wave of demonstrations. Tear gas was used again at our local motorway pay station over the weekend. The pay booths were set alight. There is talk of establishing a state of emergency although the thought of armed troops facing off with our local demonstrators doesn't fill me with joy. The poor shop keepers are having a very quiet Christmas. No one seems to know what the demonstrators want. They are now referred to on the news broadcasts as sans-dents - the great unwashed.
They played this on the radio this morning. There's something of a more innocent age about it which made me smile : https://youtu.be/-I_T3XvzPaM
Dog owners will understand :