When two elephants tussle, it's the grass that suffers.

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.

Everything will perish save love and music.

The Wrens nesting in the wisteria above the front door have been joined by a family of Chaffinches . The Wrens wake first, then the Chaffinches, then an enthusiastic and vocal  Bob. When Bob rises, the whole village rises with him.

Bob discovers a field mouse nest. He shuttles backwards and forwards until he's deposited its entire contents in the kitchen. That unmistakeable " look what I've brought you " look .  ' The font ' does not share his delight.

Expelled from the house Bob plays with the garden sprinklers. This keeps him occupied until lunchtime. He rushes into the kitchen and  lies on the tiles . A pool of water forming round him.  He is towelled dry.  Bob adopts his long suffering   '' Keep your hair on ! It's only a drop of water " attitude while this is going on .

His afternoon is spent in the cherry orchard rediscovering his inner equilibrium. Sophie spends her day with ' the font ' in the kitchen. There is sea bream for dinner.

Thin ice and thick ice look the same from a distance.

Home. The last flight due to land in time to get home for dinner. It finally lands at one in the morning. Seems there have been bad thunderstorms. At immigration one unsmiling young man. The Air Algerie and Tunis Air flights also delayed. The young man is diligent. Very diligent. A solitary guardian of the French republic. Every passport carefully scanned, the photograph checked. He seems oblivious to the way the immigration queue grows and spills back towards the arrival gates. An hour and a half later I'm through. I toy with the idea of asking the young man why there is only one person on duty but think better of it.

While I'm away the solar powered pool cover finally repaired. A team of maintenance men arrive , unannounced, to install the replacement motor. They haven't brought any screws with them. They try to claim that they'd left the original screws with ' the font ' . They are soon disabused of this notion. Over breakfast they are described to me as being " To charm what a black hole is to matter ". They've promised to come back early next week with the original screws to fix the battery cover. For the time being Scotch tape will do. Bob and Sophie find the whole process highly entertaining.

Village life focused on the gathering in of the grain harvest and preparations for harvesting the sunflowers.

Everything is possible, except to bite your own nose.

Another 100 degree day. Half an hour spent on the runway in a crowded , overheated bus. The aircraft jetty has broken down. You'd think that in this day and age they might have thought of making buses with airconditioning. There again you'd think they'd have another jetty.

An English family group with tee shirts sporting the motto " Fifty - expletive - five ! ". The 'g' has been left off the expletive. It would seem the father of the family has turned 55 and has taken his extended family away to celebrate. Angus thinks the tee-shirts are rather vulgar . Would they get away with wearing them in a US airport ? None of the other passengers , even those with inquisitive six year olds,  seem to notice or care. The family group find it highly amusing - the joke as fresh for them as it must have been when they first dreamt up the slogan. Angus wonders if his prurience is another sign that he's getting old.

Bob and Sophie delighted that they've been taken to the airport. The sliding doors with their mesmerizing ' whoosh ' sound remain an object of canine delight. Bob discovers that by lying in the right place and moving his paws he can set of the electronic beam that makes the doors move.  There was another PON in history that used to do the same thing.  The comfort of familiarity.

You cannot jump over two ditches at the same time.

An enterprising local has set out a display of 'antiques' under one of the arcades by the market. '' All genuine items ,  unbeatable prices " he says as we wander by. '' And I'm the King of Tonga " thinks Angus eyeing a fibreglass bust of Marie Antoinette. Angus keeps this thought to himself.

Time to read the paper while Bob and Sophie share their half croissant with the waitress . The cast of Dallas have visited a childrens hospital in Toulouse. The actors look the same as they ever did. However, you have to wonder if the children have any idea who these people are. 

Away for a while talking to men in dark suits. Bob and Sophie left to guard ' the font ' . Bob looks ever so slightly shocked to discover that his flock might wander.  The responsibility that comes with being six months old.

Those who stumble twice over the same stone are fools.

The builder returns. He brings with him two morose lads who spend most of their day standing in a flower bed smoking. The two morose lads ( 'the font ' calls them 'the glums' ) become hyperactive when they're told it's time to load the van and get ready to go.

The pump that lifts the water from the well breaks down. The electricians promise to come and fix it.  A rare example of French after sales service. The electricians dig a hole to lay some cable. Bob and Sophie become actively involved. Hole digging a speciality. The electricians become ever so slightly irritated with their constant companions. Bob and Sophie are dragged off ( reluctantly ) to have a bath.

A ministering angel shall my sister be.

 

Harvest heat. Our first hundred degree day of the year. Breakfast eaten in the shade of the cherry orchard while giant  combines whirr in the valley below.  By mid-morning the fields of  grain shorn to patches of golden stubble. Beyond the crossroads the first sunflowers starting to bloom. 

Bob and Sophie play under the irrigation system. Sophie manages to remain dry, Bob gets soaked. A dripping  'old man of the sea' type figure appearing in the kitchen for lunch. A quick nap then they're back out again. Sophie , nimble and spry ( and smarter ? ) , running ahead of the water jets ; Bob drenched by them. Time enough in the evening to bark at a lorry carrying grain to the silo. To bed at ten. Then untroubled sleep through to six thirty.

There is more hunger for love and appreciation in this world than for bread.

The mayor, resplendent in red tartan pork pie hat and blazer,  is on top of a ladder fixing flags to the front of the war memorial. Bob and I pass him on our way to the village pond. ''Bonjour M'Ongoose. Decorations for Bastille Day". He then pauses, unsure how much foreigners might know about history, and adds by way of clarity ; '' The revolution ". Bob looks on in engrossed silence. He's never seen anyone up a ladder before.

Saturday night. The first of the al fresco summer 'get togethers' outside the Salle des Fetes. The Beautiful Bye ways Committee  showing a light hearted comedy about a Parisian couple who suffer culture shock when they come to live in a French village.  A variety of non-matching  plastic chairs are set out in the car park surrounding a movie projector atop a wobbly trestle table. Behind the petanque court the French teachers Labrador is shredding a black bin liner- two Jack Russell's joining in the fun. Madame Bay, swathed in chiffon and sporting a pair of enormous Italian diva sun glasses , is standing by the barbecue waiting for a boar sausage. She's holding a toddler by each hand. One of the tripod legs supporting the screen gives way. The movie, finally, projected against the cemetery wall - while it's being shown everyone talks loudly and continuously. Bob and Sophie enjoy themselves tremendously .

The sophistication of life in deepest, deepest France profonde.

The first wealth is health.

A fleet of large road laying trucks arrives in the village. Amid crashing of gears and revving of engines a diorama of fevered activity unfolds in front of us. At three thirty the trucks leave . The lane outside the rickety old farmhouse now has a new layer of tarmac and grit. The previous road surface was only relaid four or five weeks ago. Go figure.

Bob and Sophie sit at the gate, noses jutting out through the bars. They are convinced that they should be out there , on the lane, directing the road layers.This morning , exhausted, they sleep all the way through to six thirty.

Shower tray in, doors rehung in the dressing room. One bathroom at least nearing completion. 'The fonts' MUST do list left largely undone. The builders head off for the Bastille Day holiday. '' We'll be back in mid-August " says the foreman. ' Oh no you won't ' says ' the font ' . They promise that a team will arrive on Monday. What are the odds ?

Silent gratitude isn't much use to anyone.

Sophie returns from the vets. Everything fine. Thanks to a strategically placed biscuit she's oblivious to the stitches coming out. Tee-shirt wearing certainly kept the dressing clean.

Overnight brother and sister share their pen. Sophie wears a tee-shirt in case Bob is tempted to lick the scar. The change in both of them remarkable. Immediately calmer. Bob happy in the way that only a sheepdog can be.

The builders increased working tempo seems to have slackened off. The mirror and radiator are up in one of the bathrooms  but that leaves a mountain of work to be done today.

Our solar powered pool cover motor has disappeared to that place from whence solar powered pool cover motors never return. The service agent once again not bothering to answer the phone. 

Seven am. The gardeners arrive to trim the laurel hedge. Bob and Sophie greet them enthusiastically. Their enthusiasm dims when the noisy petrol powered hedge cutters get to work. They lie in the orchard, Sophie behind Bob, wondering what sort of  infernal beasts have invaded their domain. The gardeners have brought biscuits.

Never underestimate your problems or your ability to deal with them.

We're up and out early. The cool morning air a delight after last nights clammy heat. Bob is brimming  over with energy . We walk from one end of the village to the other - the span of  his universe . At the petanque court we sit for a while and gaze at the sun just beginning to rise behind the mountains ;  the sky shading from grey to purple to pink to blue.  A large green grasshopper ambles across the grass in front of us. Bob is unsure whether to play with it, eat it or ignore it. He toys with options one and two before deciding on the third.

On our way home we pass a hive of activity round the pottery kiln. The mayor, the farmer with the bulbous nose, a man in smock and beret and the lawnmower repair man all hard at work. '' We've bought new bricks " says the mayor. He  points to a pile of bricks. '' Not as good as the ones from St.Etienne but much cheaper " adds the farmer with the red bulbous nose. There then follows a lengthy discussion about the quality of St.Etienne bricks, the best way of getting to St.Etienne and how much petrol would be used in driving there. We excuse ourselves and leave them discussing the confusing motorway intersections outside Lyons.

The butcher drops off some small rib bones for Sophie. He knows she's convalescing. Sometimes one is surprised by the kindness and care of almost strangers. Sophie is delighted. After breakfast she uses Bob as a pillow and grabs an hours beauty sleep. To the vets this afternoon to have the stitches removed .

You must do the thing you think you cannot do.

Six months old. We'll celebrate by adding some sea  bream to their kibbles. Maybe some  peach yoghurt to finish ?

Bob continues to grow. He towers over his sister. A PON on stilts look . His weight seems to have finally stabilized at 19 kilos, Sophie at 16 1/2. Stitches out tomorrow .

'The font' takes the dilatory builders on a tour of the house pointing out the things that MUST be done before they go. '' That'll be no problem . No problem at all " says the chief honcho with well practised charm. He agrees to return in September to do all the other things he was supposed to do in June.

Seven fifteen in the evening. A delegation of villagers arrive at the front gate. The mayor, his deputy, the lady with the Marge Simpson beehive hairdo and the man in the yellow fluorescent jacket that does 'interventions'. The local bank had agreed to print the posters for the pottery fair. The mayor has been to check up on the printings progress. He's discovered that the bank manager has gone away on holiday and no one in the branch knows anything about printing posters. The manager returns in mid-August. The fair is the beginning of August. A glass of Corsican rose and they're feeling more confident. 'The font' will design a poster and I'll get them printed. The lady with the beehive hairdo sighs then wipes her index finger across her mouth and says '' this wine is very good ". Cue for another glass.

Life as a foreigner in a village in deepest, deepest France profonde.