Down to the river. Sophie barks at some anglers. Then off en famille to the good bakers. Todays offering a 9.5/10 - buttery, flaky and light. Sophie is rendered completely silent with joy which indicates she's giving it at least 15/10.
Our wealthy neighbour has cut down a line of beautiful old chestnut trees to build another garage. Is my grumpy reaction NIMBYism or justifiable irritation ?
The old farmer shows up in the venerable Mercedes. I can see a change in him. He's moving more slowly and his voice has developed a definite advancing years 'hoarseness' .
We have a long chat. He's well as is his 'lady friend'. His second jab caused him no problems. Plans for a trip to see his fathers grave in Belarus are deflected with a judicious ' I'm leaving the drive until next year. Getting a visa is too difficult right now'. Sophie sees that there's a C-A-T standing on the drive. She howls. He laughs.
I go back to The Rickety Old Farmhouse and bring over a bottle of Gris de Gris as a gift for his lady friend. The temperatures are supposed to soar into the mid-30's next week. There's nothing like a super chilled glass of a good rose on a hot and muggy evening to end the day on a high note. Doubly so when you're ninety.
He's brought a fold up chair with him. He takes the bottle, thanks me, opens up the boot, pulls out the chair and then sits and carefully reads the label. In the process he drifts off for fifteen minutes of well deserved rest.
A few years ago, on a trip to Chennai in India, we stumbled across the supposed site of St.Thomas' martyrdom. It's now the site of a huge, wedding cake style cathedral of highly dubious architectural taste. I'd assumed the Saints presence in India was an old folk tale. However, recent research shows that two thousand years ago there was a lively flow of trade across the Indian Ocean from the mid-East to India : https://open.spotify.com/episode/7sjItZSn6uNdaooVGhEC0n?si=5eAamiOBSWiDbzl7NifXqg&nd=1