Like 1988.

It's cooler than it has been but the late afternoon temperatures are still in the high 30's. This morning as we set off across the parched village green it's a refreshing, but humid, 23. The old mayors attempts to keep the grass alive through frequent watering have failed. By the war memorial we meet Monsieur Bay who has been to the boulangerie for the breakfast baguettes. ' It was hot like this in 1988 but only for two days, not three weeks'.

These super dry conditions are a nightmare for PONs and their owners. Dried seed heads are attracted towards Sophie's coat  like iron filings to a magnet . A full ten minutes has to be spent on the grooming table in an attempt to remove some of them. There's a type of small sharp grass seed that works  its way through the fur and into the skin.  After ten minutes of grooming and ever increasing squirming we agree , by mutual consent, to continue the process later.

After a trip to the bakers for some curly croissant ends and a drink of water Sophie decides that the optimal use of her time is a quick nap at the front door.

 So starts a Monday morning in a small and sleepy village in deepest, deepest France profonde.