Bright and sunny this morning. Sophie rushes off to the storm drain. We sit side by side, put the world to rights, and wave at the young garagiste and two old farmers driving by in their white vans. One of the old farmers stops to let me admire his new Peugeot. It looks identical to the old Peugeot van but I don't tell him this. Aesthetically there is only so much a designer can do with a small white van. 'Very fancy' I tell him in a tone of voice that, hopefully, sounds sincere.
Sophie could walk on the grass. She could walk on the road. Instead she returns to The Rickety Old Farmhouse by carefully ploughing her way through the leaves on the verge. Why walk when you can walk and make a satisfying crinkling noise ?
The Old Farmers star isn't switched on this year. He can't be bothered to replace some of the bulbs that have burnt out. It sits atop a long bamboo pole looking dark and forlorn. Instead, to celebrate the festive season, he has set up a small line of lights on his balcony. These should not be confused with the Christmas lights that run all the way round his gutters and which are attached to a motion sensor. These are now left up all year.
A village council meeting. No one wears masks. 'The Font' is less than happy with this arrangement and quickly makes excuses and leaves . A dozen people crammed into a small airless room. Go figure . A suggestion to move into the large communal area with windows that open is met with the retort ' But it would be so cold in there'.
The sign above the church door has still not been illuminated despite an extension lead being dropped off at the Mairie. The new mayor is a great prevaricator of the ' I'll get round to it when I'm not so busy' variety. A cynic might wonder what, in a village of 67 souls, is keeping him so busy.
Advent song #19. Classical formality. Three Kings as it was originally written and performed : https://youtu.be/gZeTkFxfYFQ?t=941