Sparse.

A national holiday here in France. Armistice Day. There may, or may not, be a ceremony at the war memorial. In the old days, under the previous mayor, villagers would receive a note in their letterbox telling them what was happening. Under the new mayor communications are sparser. In fact they are borderline non-existent. This may be cost cutting or it may be inefficiency.

After a damp and misty walk by the river Sophie returns home for a napette and a chance to dry out. No sooner is she in her bed and asleep than the new mayor arrives at the gate. ' Bonjour M'Ongoose. Would it be possible for me to borrow a ladder to put up the flags ?'  I'm only too happy to oblige . The mayor confirms that there will be a ceremony at eleven... or shortly thereafter. The village elders are trying to get the church clock working again. A dead pigeon has fallen into the belfry and clogged up the works. As a consequence a chimeless and ever so slightly delayed Armistice ceremony may be on the cards.

By the time we head off to the bakers Sophie's paws have dried but her beard has something of the 'Lenin' about it. Unusual cloud formations today.  I'm betting a cold front is on its way.