Yesterday the village was deserted . A couple of cars drove past in the morning and a tractor went through after lunch. One of the cars had a 78 registration plate - which I think is from Paris. It stopped by the church for its occupants to get out and look at what was, but is no longer, the swaying Jesus. They seem unimpressed and move on quickly. Apart from that, nothing. One of the mysteries of France is where the people go. Late in the afternoon we go out in the car to see whether the wine merchant in the little market town was open. He wasn't. The village donkeys, horses, goats and cattle continue in their unchanging routine and seem unperturbed by the silence.
This morning the weather bright and sunny. Unseasonably warm. Madame Bay, who stops by for a cup of coffee and to provide an update on village gossip, repeats an old country saying '' Sit on the terrace at Christmas, sit by the fire for Easter ''. This is presumably to tell us that the good weather will be replaced by a bitter cold snap.
Sophie is awake at first light. She hears me stir, rushes up the stairs and stares intently while I put my shoes on. No mistaking that PON enthusiasm to go out into the garden and face whatever the day has in store. There may be C-A-T-S !
This made me laugh : https://www.lastwordonnothing.com/2019/03/28/redux-every-decision-my-kids-made-me-make-in-one-day/
Octopus farming is now added to the list of things I didn't know about : https://www.sciencealert.com/scientists-have-warned-that-we-absolutely-must-not-farm-octopuses