Moon reflection.

It's been four weeks since we left France. Twelve weeks since the unexpected offer for the house was received. Sophie has been completely untroubled by the experience. It has to be said that male PONs were not as easy to travel with.

Downsizing to a house a quarter of the size of The Rickety Old Farmhouse has had its challenges. We'd already sent a truck with pictures and sculptures to an auctioneer in Paris. Despite the paring back we've still got too much stuff so an auctioneer from Glasgow will be here this afternoon to see what else might be worth selling. We've decided that we'll only have bright, modern, cheerful things in the house. Large furniture can be sold off and dusty old portraits can be dispatched to the family . 

Sophie has  now decided what spots in the house are hers. These are invariably in places that cause the maximum inconvenience and require her to be stepped over. Suggestions that she might wish to move are met with willful deafness.

Town is humming. The university has sensibly decided that life will pretty much carry on as usual although the rugby club bar will have to close at two am in deference to the period of mourning. Students are reminded that festivities should be appropriate for the week leading up to a state funeral.  For many of the youngsters , who've suffered two years of Covid induced isolation,  this is the first time they can really get out and mingle. Letting them do so is sensible.

The church notice board is a master class in understatement. A small flag at half mast and the briefest of messages.

Last night the most amazing moon. Large and bright. It hovered above the horizon like an orange dinner plate. I'd hoped the camera would capture its intensity and size but it hasn't.  'The font' joins me in the garden and we stand with a glass of champagne marveling at this unexpected sight. Even better, the sea is calm enough for the moon to be reflected on the water.

PONs know that all sorts of weird and wonderful things come out on a bright moonlight night. Sophie, being occasionally fearless, heads off across the harvested wheat fields in noisy pursuit of things she alone can see. The family diva soon returns to the front gate convinced that she has scared off all manner of interlopers. She is congratulated and rewarded with a small carrot. As all PONs know - bravery is its own reward but a carrot and a cuddle don't hurt. What the villagers think of a PONette that howls at the moon is unknown.

Tweet of the day :https://twitter.com/Gabriele_Corno/status/1567416746344079361

Thought this was daft but apparently all beekeepers talk to their bees. Nothing to add now that I understand bees are psychopomps  :https://twitter.com/PickardJE/status/1569253266755551236 . It is still arguably the oddest / most wonderful thing I've discovered this year :https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Telling_the_bees