There is no room at the inn. Or, to be more precise, there are no empty seats at the cafe under the arcades. A coach load of Belgian tourists has stopped in the market square for an early morning break. The beer and absinthe set forced inside by this foreign invasion. They can be found clustered round the pool table, silently supping their pre-breakfast lagers. The waitress is run off her feet. Today Bob and Sophie don't get their illicit, but customary, half croissant. Sophie is well aware of this change to her routine . On the way home she howls.
'' Don't worry about the car. I'll take care of it " says ' the font '. Until this point Angus hadn't been aware he needed to worry about the car. Returning from the supermarket ' the font ' has parked the little Skoda in the courtyard leaving the windows and sunroof wide open. A sudden, brief, hail laden storm has swept down from the mountains. The seats and carpets soaked, small lakes where the footwells used to be. Sometimes ( a trick that's taken thirty five years to learn ) it's best to say nothing.
The car doors are left open to let the inside dry out. Bob and Sophie discover that they can leap in one side and out of the other. Endless fun. When they get bored with this game they start digging.
