Noise.

Easter Monday. A national holiday here in France. This morning, our usual cafe closed, we head off to the modern bakery in the shopping centre.

Sophie has the car park to herself. She is on the look out for the mallards that usually can be found parading in front of the electrical store. This morning they are nowhere to be seen. We sit in the back of the little Volvo with the tail gate up and share a croissant.

Back at The Rickety Old Farmhouse all is quiet apart from the sound of the frogs in the village pond, the chirruping of the hyper active sparrows ( scores of them ) that nest in the eaves, and the industrious buzzing of the bees on the wisteria and the alliums. The bees are far too busy to notice humans or the PONette. I used to think the village is a quiet place. It isn't. It positively thrums with the sound of activity. 

Sophie positions herself by the front door so that she can hurtle off towards the barn if any passing C-A-T dare show itself. It may be a national holiday but a sheepdog never stops guarding - even for a second.

This looks like a fun place to stay :https://www.patrice-besse.co.uk/seasonal-rental/italie-venise-palais/

Rum and rye. An acquired taste ? :https://www.insidehook.com/article/booze/hercules-mulligan-rum-rye-review