The sheep have got into the turnip field and are munching their way through it. Such is Sunday morning excitement in this small corner of paradise.
Somewhere, far to the North, the clouds are building. Here at the steading the sun is already warm and it's shirt sleeve weather. Out on the water the small fishing boats are laying their lobster creels. Lobsters command London prices at the harbour but 'The Font' has found that langoustine seem a tad too exotic for local tastes and are excellent value. We may live on langoustine .
On our morning walk we meet two locals. One a world expert in 12th and 13th century Islamic lyrical poetry, the other an epidemiologist. Both are collecting brambles and dressed accordingly. Each of them had shown up, separately, on the doorstep with a tin of Marks and Spencers biscuits as a welcome gift. We now have a small mountain of M&S biscuits to work our way through. 'The Font' has one a day whereas Angus is altogether less abstemious.
Later today we have been invited to meet the villagers at a barbecue in the village hall. There will be tea, cake and burgers - all we're told ' sourced from the village ' . A very prim lady who is secretary of the village residents association came by last night to give us an invitation. This was delivered more in the tone of a demand rather than a request. I tell her about the deer on the beach . ' Oh, that's nothing. We'll take you down to the shore to see the young stag that drinks at the burn. He's coming on three now '. It's clear we're already in Celtic territory where the limits between nature and humans are blurred.
Of all the places in the garden Sophie could call her own she chooses a patch of gravel under an acer by the front door. A kind of zen garden for a PONette. Life in this place is already developing its own rituals and routines. Over a glass of champagne in the garden of the Wee House last night we both agree that this has been a good move. Sophie, who is still coming to terms with Oyster Catchers, dozes at our feet .
18 comments:
Nobby wants to know if Sophie too has been invited to the village barbecue?
I am sure if she isn't invited she will expect a doggy bag .
Tea cake, and burgers - I'm wondering if there will be an enormous paella pan like your last village had?
Once the locals get to know Sophie, they won't dare to leave her out of anything involving food!
ici les cerfs ont mange mes choux !Vive lEcosse, Vive la France;amities paule caillou
The garden looks lovely and the skies a clear blue. Seems the locals are friendly too.
Hari OM
Ah, methinks you and Sophie are going to settle well with a plethora of new characters to describe and report upon! Though I cannot get the image of that unpaved road requiring wellies in the not-too-distant weeks... YAM xx
You sound relaxed and happy, a peaceful life.
I'd love to sit in that beautiful garden, sipping champagne and taking it all in.
I understand Sophie choosing her spot by the front door. It is a PON girls job to guard her flock and watch whatever action takes place by the door! May you enjoy the barbecue and meeting the villagers later today.
Looking forward to "meeting" the local villagers at the barbecue.
Is that the garden at the new ROFH? It looks almost tropical! And what's a 'burn?'
Enjoy all of the "new to you" experiences and sights.
Oh what a beautiful place you have moved to! It appears the Scots village is much faster at welcoming newcomers than the French villages. The Font’s ability to be satisfied with one cookie/biscuit a day is unfathomable here.
Celebrating a good decision with champagne is always a fine idea!
Sophie having her moment of zen. How nice ...
The sheep will have been put into the turnip crop deliberately, as turnip leaves are an excellent source of fodder for them - helps increase the weight of lambs.
Your learned neighbours are a sure sign you're within the St Andrews sphere of influence!
Just beautiful
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