It's hot. A pleasant twenty degrees at seven o'clock but debilitating heat by lunchtime. Bob and Sophie are up and about early. Bob walks with me along the ridge to look at the sunflower fields while Sophie heads off with ' the font ' to the morning market. Tomorrow they'll swap places. Bob will go to the market and Sophie will charge through the sunflowers. Teaching them together is impossible so now they spend an hour apart every day being socialized.After lunch they sleep .
The local authority has declared a heat emergency. The Salle des Fetes opened and the air conditioning turned up full pelt. The district nurse in her little white Peugeot checks on the old folks twice a day. Lunch provided for those who want it. '' Call this lunch ? Where's the pudding ? I like a nice glass of wine with my lunch . I was in the army you know ! '' says the very old farmer who's had a table set up for him in the shade of the plane trees .
Ten at night. The sun sets. The four street lights are switched on. A final walk across the village green. Bob chases after blackbirds, Sophie digs for moles. The end to another day in deepest, deepest France profonde.
