Angus talks at length to a group of serious Manhattanites. This means we're late heading off for the morning croissant. Sophie does her best to hide her exasperation with my tardiness. She doesn't succeed. PONettes are not good at hiding their emotions.
The sunflower plants in the field on the other side of the lane seem to have doubled in height overnight. From the look of the soil we must have had a shower of rain in the wee hours. The ground needed it. The fact that I even comment on over night rain is yet another of those ever mounting signs that I've turned into my father.
This mornings croissant decidedly subpar. Somethings gone wrong with the dough. It struggles to get a score of 6/10. Sophie, by contrast, thinks it's lip smackingly wonderful.
The tamarisk that line the verges outside The Rickety Old Farmhouse is starting to come into bloom. One of those small but sure signs that Summer is about to arrive. There are roadworks on the lane at the 'Y' junction. The reason for the roadworks is unexplained as is the absence of any workmen. There is however a sign saying the road will be closed until June 9th. This means that traffic through the village is forced to make a major detour around it. With the road blocked the only cars that pass by the gate belong to the matron of the old folks home, the new mayor and ourselves. The village has gone from merely quiet to a form of prelapsarian stillness.