The year moving along in leaps and bounds. Decidedly darker in the mornings and the leaves on the plane trees are starting to fall. The moon and Mars still shining in the sky above us as we near the storm drain. Belarus and Hong Kong our conversation points today. After our walk, we use what coolness there is to head off to the cafe by the 11th century church. We are the first there. No problem in finding a table, or in social distancing.
The village is home to one of our favourite restaurants. It has a shaded walled garden with tables widely spaced.
The menu is a little too complicated for this heat. We'll wait and see what they're planning for tomorrows lunch. At the side door of the restaurant a village dog comes calling. He briefly watches Sophie stroll by but his heart is set on carabineros de la tete du pied.
On our way back to the car we see another dog. This one is resting his chin on the cafe window sill and giving the owner at work in the kitchen a protracted ' I is adorable ' look. The cafe owner seems unimpressed. This in no way deters the dog who lives in hope that pastries will miraculously appear in front of him. This is a village scene unchanged from a hundred years ago. Different dog, different cafe owner, same hope.
So starts a hot Monday morning in deepest, deepest France profonde.
Storms are forecast for Tuesday night. They can't come a moment too soon. The well water at The Rickety Old Farmhouse has almost run dry. This means the irrigation system for the garden is starved of water. Thankfully, the village has three large lakes which keep the house supplied.
Sophie and her master have a forty minute walk across country. Then its off to the cafe for a shared croissant. We go with the car windows all the way down. Todays coffee is good. The croissant less so. Much less so. It tastes like a supermarket sliced white loaf. Sophie thinks its marvellous.
A fluffy creamy thing attracts my attention. A good thing to have on a hot summer Sunday lunch ?
We finally decide on a millefeuille for me and a strawberry tart for 'The Font'. Then it's back home with the VW's aircon cranked up as far as it will go, In the little market town the volunteers are setting up for the old folks weekly 'summer get together' lunch on the square. This is peak holiday season and many families have headed off on vacation leaving grandma or grandpa behind. The lunch is a chance for the more elderly residents to mingle and have a chat. 3 courses and a glass or two of wine - courtesy of the local council. I count ten closely packed tables. Each table has a dozen chairs arranged around it. There is an element of ' we've always done it this way and we're not going to change now' in this layout. France reported nearly 2300 new cases on Friday. Can a second lockdown be far away ?
A sign of the times or too little too late ? :https://www.msn.com/en-us/news/technology/germany-plans-to-dim-lights-at-night-to-save-insects/ar-BB17BlkR
I would like to see this but fear that our next trip to DC in September is unlikely to take place : https://www.washingtonpost.com/entertainment/museums/the-new-eisenhower-memorial-is-stunning-especially-at-night-but-is-this-the-last-of-the-great-man-memorials/2020/08/05/100eb90a-d665-11ea-aff6-220dd3a14741_story.html
I sense he's hiding his impatience :
https://www.wired.com/story/bill-gates-on-covid-most-us-tests-are-completely-garbage/
Boy is it hot ! Sophie wanders over to let me know that we'd better head out early before the heat builds. This morning I opt to leave the shutters firmly closed. Fresh air can wait for a cooler morning. We enjoy a half hour walk to the shade of the Holy Well then return home. En route we pause on the storm drain and discuss Jerry Falwell, observe that Warren and Clinton will speak after each other at the Democrat ( virtual ) convention and wonder whether Pelosi or DJT have got it right over executive orders for Covid relief.
Our trip to the cafe a hurried one. The sun is already rising in the sky and while it's not exactly hot it's not exactly cool. An ice cube in her bowl of water is much appreciated by my furry companion. We bid au revoir to the two tables of municipal refuse workers and head home - windows down. Apart from comfort breaks in the shade of the orchard it is unlikely that Sophie will do much else until it cools down this evening.
Tomorrow we may get tickets to the recently re-opened Ingres museum in the departmental capital. It has one of those hugely unfashionable religious pictures of a young Jesus discussing doctrine with the Pharisees. This is the sort of picture full of symbolism that Victorians would have sat and studied for hours. Angus rather likes the use of bright colours . Being a French painting the young Jesus is wrapped in red and blue. He's also sporting a very wonderful halo. Strange ethereal light, billowing curtains, exotic architecture and a quizzical audience wearing every variety of head dress known to man make it a real barnstormer of a painting. The books scattered across the ground add a moralistic touch. I shall try to take a better photo. 'The Font' thinks it unlikely that we will have problems getting tickets for such an out of favour exhibition even though entry is pandemically restricted to two visitors every fifteen minutes.
The village hall still cordoned off as a safety measure. The wasps are asleep at this time of the morning but from mid-afternoon until sunset they swarm around in a decidedly unfriendly way.
Sophie leads her master on a tour of the village. When he lags behind she turns and gives him that ' Do keep up !' look. She charges along the ox track and disappears into the sunflowers. Angus ponders the fact that females of all species give him the identical look.
Off in the dog car to the cafe in the market town. The owners, a 50 something couple, bought it in March. What a time to open a new business ! They don't have croissants but they do have two small Madeleines for Sophie. This saves the day. The coffee is Italian style good. We are changing our shopping habits to support those 'barely hanging on' businesses. There are rather a lot of these at the moment.
On our way back home on the motorway we pass a car pulling a trailer with a very wind blown sheep in it. The sheep seems to be enjoying the high speed cooling breeze.
Pilgrims making a comeback in the village. A father, three boys, mother and two mules wander through . The boys are at that 'studies in motion stage' , I'm guessing 4,6 and 8, and seem to be having a whale of a time. Father stops on the village green and opens cans of orange juice. Mother heads off with her mule in search of some peace and quiet.
So starts a quiet Friday morning in sun drenched France profonde. Another 40 degrees day forecast. The builder has gone on holiday until the end of the month.
Science as poetry : https://www.knowablemagazine.org/article/living-world/2020/life-springs-dead-leaves-streams
The little stream in the valley still flowing but now reduced to a mere trickle. With the temperature rising again it may dry out completely by the weekend.
The village hall has been cordoned off. Someone left a window open and the wasps have built an enormous nest inside. Madame Bay informs us that 'wasp men' have been called to deal with the infestation. The wasp men can't come to deal with our problem for three or four days. Monsieur Bay has tried his contacts in the retired gendarmes association to see if things can be speeded up but to no avail.
It seems our new mayor put up the tape to cordon off the village hall during the wee hours of the morning. There is something ever so slightly eerie about his penchant for doing things in the dark.
The excitement at The Rickety Old Farmhouse reaches fever pitch. The builder shows up - unannounced - at 6:25 am. He's come to lay the tiles that have been sitting in the courtyard for the last six months. There is a bout of feverish activity. By 9:15 he's gone after laying a concrete foundation. A group of morose lads stand in the peony border and smoke. Sophie glares at them. Given half a chance she'd try to nip their ankles but is told to behave.
I don't see the builder and his entourage go. If I had there would have been a conversation about 1) why the concrete slab isn't central to the French doors 2) why it's so high off the ground when it was supposed to be flush 3) why he's decided not to continue the concrete to the corner and cover the downpipe and 4) when he plans to return to lay the stone tiles.
It's also not as wide as it should be .... or straight.
There again , in this heat, who cares ?
Whoever knew pineapples were so interesting ? : https://www.bbc.com/news/uk-england-53432877
Auld Lang Syne - Beirut style : https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VegYsyCnTLo
There's a full moon and a refreshing breeze this morning. On our return from the stream a thin, middle aged man can be seen standing at the gate . The doorbell isn't working no matter how hard he presses it. The bell gave up the ghost in last weeks heat and the ghost hasn't returned. Angus will need to get the electricians in. The mans white Renault saloon is parked on the verge which means dog and master have to navigate round it. ' You asked me to quote on re-doing the pool ' he says by way of greeting. I explain to him that he must be at the wrong house - it wasn't me. Sophie sniffs his ankles. He goes on to explain that he has two Boxers at home so he's used to dogs. Sophie takes this as a canine Good Housekeeping Seal of Approval and opts to ignore him.
Just then the German billionaire hoves into view on his bicycle. He's wearing what appears to be cut off orange dungarees and a maroon tee-shirt. He's also wearing a shiny black hat of a style that a New Orleans jazz musician might wear. Angus notices that the billionaire has grown a moustache. This is not so much grey as white. Angus remains firm in his view that facial hair should be restricted to submariners returning from a lengthy stint at sea.
It turns out the pool man is here to see our German neighbour who's looking for something modern and brutalist in grey concrete. Considering he had a fancy new pool put in three years ago this comes as something of a surprise. The billionaire seems to be on a quest for pool perfection. We'll have to see whether he'll find it in our deeply unfashionable corner of France profonde. Beverly Hills it ain't.
The German billionaire asks me if I've heard about the court case. Angus feigns ignorance. ' Court case ? What court case ?' This is not so much a lie as an obfuscation. The presence of the pool man thankfully cuts any further conversation short.
Sophie is rewarded with the curly croissant ends from the cafe at the new shopping centre. 9/10 and the coffee an 8/10. Sophie's bowl of water is provided with an ice cube which gives it an off the scale ranking of 12/10. Sophie discovers that the ice cube makes an interesting 'clinking' noise when she pushes it against the side of the bowl with her nose.
On our way back home we pass a convoy of twenty riot police vans heading towards Toulouse. They are doing a steady 129 km/h. We decide to overtake at an ever so slightly illegal 133 km/h. It takes rather longer than expected before we're clear of them.
Things you could do : https://www.cnet.com/news/watch-olympic-swimmer-katie-ledecky-swim-with-full-glass-of-milk-on-her-head/#ftag=CAD-09-10aai5b
Plus ca change : https://www.smithsonianmag.com/science-nature/dinosaurs-suffered-cancer-too-180975467/
Across country to the Holy Well and the Holy Oak. Sophie occupies herself by chasing field mice, ineptly, among the sunflowers.
The motorway en route to the cafe busy with Parisians who are eight or nine hours into their drive south.
Our croissant this morning 7/10. In Britain it would be considered 'good'. Here it's on the right side of mediocre. Sophie shrieks at some sparrows that get audaciously close to her croissant end. The female PON shriek is a truly wondrous thing - in a concrete shredding way. It comes from nowhere and goes as quickly. It cannot be mistaken for a bark. More a ' This is my space. You are not invited ' sound that carries to the farthest ends of the universe.
The cake display which is unadventurous even by the standards of the British high street. The raspberries have that ' We lived to fight another day' look to them.
More than you would ever wish to know about zombie cicadas : https://www.cbsnews.com/news/zombie-cicadas-infected-mind-controlling-fungus-west-virginia/
Cooler today. Much cooler. What a relief after last weeks tarmac melting heat. Dog and master head off along the top of the ridge in the dark. We sit on the storm drain and look out across the valley as the sun daydreams into the sky . Sophie is given an ear scrunch and told, as she's told every morning, that this is her home. She leans into me. Then, having said 'good morning ' to the donkeys we head off down to the stream for a lengthy and noisy drink. Difficult to say who enjoys this routine more; Angus or Sophie. Peak holiday season here. No cars to disturb our reveries.
Back in the village we stop to check the scarecrows on the village green. All four are still wearing masks.
This, we think, is the week of the court case between the man with anger management issues and the German billionaires builder. We are doing our best to show 'disinterest' in the proceedings. Madame Bay is keeping us up to speed with the village intrigue. People are taking sides over the hedge felling. We continue to pursue our strategy of ' No speakee the French so good ' strategy of claiming that it's all too complicated for foreign folk to understand. This seems to be working - so far.
Cooler this morning. Sophie and her master have a leisurely break of day stroll round the village. The overly enthusiastic black labrador that shares a house with the 'tikes' bounds over. Sophie makes it quite clear that she is not pleased to see him. He retreats - still bounding. Overnight all the scarecrows on the village green have had masks fitted . Will the new mayor come along and de-mask them ?
On our walk down to the stream the family diva is in one of her sniff every flower, smell every tree moods. Progress is 'measured' while badger poo is savoured. When she discovers I've walked on ahead she powers along, head down , to catch up. Each time this happens Sophie gives me a look that makes it quite clear that in the dog ownership stakes I have much to learn.
Time to clamber up the ramp and head off for a curly croissant end. This morning we go to the cafe that does really good croissants but serves coffee out of a machine and in a paper cup. The croissant scores 9.5/10. The coffee fares rather less well. If bottled and sold it could come in handy stripping the chrome off a Cadillac or unblocking drains.
You know you're in France when the oven chips in the frozen food store are prepared in duck fat.
We also pick up on some Yakitori as pre-dinner snacks
Sunday morning wake up music. The piano players win this one : https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EWZFkib99uo
Fans whirring away. Our electricity bills going through the roof. Well above 40 again. Thankfully, the cool tiles and thick walls downstairs moderate the hallway heat to a much more manageable 18 degrees. This is where Sophie spends much of her day.
The sun is quite ferocious. The village deserted. Sophie finds some air dried fox poo on the grass by the war memorial. Our morning walk comes to a complete halt while this is savoured.
At the cafe with the good croissants Sophie is greeted by the gentlemen from the council sanitation department. It's a special sort of dog who is known by name by the refuse collectors. How chic is that ! Kardashians, weep !
While waiting for our order Sophie and Angus put the world to rights. The waitress bring a bowl of water with an ice cube. This week we have learnt two new names - Louie Gohmert and Stella Immanuel. Sophie is not massively taken with either.
Yesterday 'The Font' goes to see the doctor to get the results of the scan. The appointment is for two pm. At three pm 'The Font' speaks to the receptionist. The doctor is 'running four hours late' and still seeing the morning patients. A new appointment is rescheduled. A hastily arranged alternative. The scan results are e-mailed to London and within 20 minutes an online consultation arranged with a UK specialist. All is good but head bangs can take a surprisingly long time to heal. The specialist says that he now does 90% of his consultations - both NHS and private - on line . His productivity has increased by 40% as 'no shows' don't exist. This enables his scheduling to be much more flexible. This in turn works to our advantage.
Hot morning music : https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dfvT0xheCsA
Surprising longevity : https://neddonovan.substack.com/p/why-does-monaco-exist
Good news : https://www.statnews.com/2020/07/30/a-huge-experiment-how-the-world-made-so-much-progress-on-a-covid-19-vaccine-so-fast/
Something I didn't know : https://social.mbl.edu/researchers-figure-out-how-to-genetically-alter-squid-shots-health-news-npr
