Enthusiasm.

The PONs are enthusiastic about everything. A 'Why walk when you can run ?' attitude to life. This morning Bob rushes to get out , brakes, finds that the cleaning lady has waxed the floor tiles, and skids - at high speed - into the door. He thinks this is great fun. He repeats the process.

We watch the school bus head off down the lane.

'The Font' is preparing for our trip to Beijing. The Pasadena Community College has an online course in scientific mandarin. This involves 'The Font'  sitting in front of a computer screen and shouting answers to random questions. Sometimes the answer is correct in which case the algorithm belts out a cheerful little ditty. If the answer is wrong ( or unrecognizable as mandarin ) it makes a rather terrifying noise not unlike someone throwing a metal bar into a large piece of rotating machinery. Sophie thinks these weird and wonderful noises are marvellous. She settles down under 'The Fonts' desk and lies completely still apart from her tail which sweeps from side to side - constantly.

A detour to the motorway service station with the PONs for a coffee and a croissant. Bob likes the motorway service station for the tyre christening opportunities it presents. En route from the car park to the cafe he de-threats the front passenger side tyre of a Citroen, and the rear offside tyres of a Kia hybrid and a Renault 4x4. He will not be hurried.

The display cabinet next to the cash desk has a new collection of glass bottle stoppers. The 'Thimbles of France' collection is not selling well. In the last two years the thimbles have remained untouched. The plastic day-glo Eiffel Towers are also slow sellers but are kept waiting in readiness for any stray coach tours with money to burn. Good luck to that !




Angus wonders if Carrot Cake is forbidden for Lent. Could it be classed as a healthy life style alternative ?

Dog lovers will like this : https://twitter.com/RSPCA_official/status/1105453282393276416

An unusual topic : https://kottke.org/19/03/stone-age-cave-symbols-may-all-be-part-of-a-single-prehistoric-proto-writing-system

Augur well ?

Out along the ridge. Goats, donkeys and horses all greeted. A white breasted owl sitting on a telephone pole is barked at. With an annoyed screech it flies off. Sophie looks mightily pleased with her village guarding skills. We pause at the storm drain and wave at the young garagiste, two white farmers vans ( one of the farmers has bought a new VW with a side sliding door to replace a two decade and a half old Peugeot ) and the farmer in his green Toyota Land Cruiser with the permanently irate Westie. The school bus goes by - little noses pressed against the window. This morning we discuss Nancy Pelosi's views on impeachment and last nights Brexit vote.  We move on to an article in this mornings paper about Colton's fence climbing behaviour but Sophie is not interested. 

To the supermarket for rice cakes. This week shoppers are greeted by a Polynesian theme. A must for every garden. Easter Island meets deepest France profonde.

After talking to 'The Font' about dinner reservations the hotel concierge sends an e-mail which may, or may not, augur well for next weeks travels. 'Regarding the Chinese food, we would like to recommend the “Hua’s restaurant”(花家怡园) for local food, “Family Li”(厉家菜) for imperial food,  “King’s joy”(京兆尹) for vegetarian meats, all of them are very worth to taste. Reserve the table in both restaurant is a quite difficult thing because it is always fully booked. All above restaurant information collect by myself experience, if you want others restaurant or food, please let me know, I will try my best to figure the relevant information out to you.'   

Peanut butter sandwiches every day : https://www.theatlantic.com/family/archive/2019/03/eating-the-same-thing-lunch-meal/584347/?curator=MediaREDEF

What a peculiar place.

Sophie arrives in the kitchen. Her sharp eyed owner observes that she has been in the wet grass excavating mole hills. The family diva is congratulated on starting the day as a vision of loveliness. Dogs thankfully don't relate to sarcasm. Her tail wags.

Off to explore a village 20 minutes away. The site of an abbey founded in 1062. By the 17th century the monastic order that ran the abbey was out of fashion, the money was running short and the huge old building was decrepit and falling into disrepair. Shortly after, a century before the revolution, it was in ruins.

The thrifty townsfolk took what was still standing and put it to good use. Down one side street a workshop beavering away repairing radiators in a part of the nave. A house with a hugely disproportionate  tracery window built into what was a chapel.  At the side of the car park a wonderful. ramshackle old maison de maitre with arches and a long stone staircase catches our eye.

One of the nave towers became the town hall which also serves as  a primary school

What must have been the village hotel now deserted. The top floor windows open to the elements.

On the small  central square 14th and 15th century houses decaying inelegantly into nothing. In Britain the houses would be second homes, the hotel would have a gastro pub and the concrete Snow White and the seven dwarfs that are in evidence in several village gardens would be put somewhere out of sight.

Away from the centre of town there are wonderful limestone houses - probably houses for clergy - with carved pillars and doorways that are far too grand for the little village of today. Some newer houses incorporate stonework from the old church. Oddly everything is covered in moss. The place has a damp microclimate all of its own. Eerily, with the exception of the radiator repairman,  there's not a soul to be seen or a light on in any of the houses.

Putting Bob and Sophie out of work : https://www.radionz.co.nz/national/programmes/checkpoint/audio/2018685575/barking-drones-used-on-farms-instead-of-sheep-dogs

Security in communications : https://www.atlasobscura.com/articles/what-did-people-do-before-envelopes-letterlocking

Goats, wine and chocolate.

Two goats have managed to squeeze under the fence and escape onto the lane. Sophie sees them but is too interested in something small and furry and dead to give chase. Bob is quickly harnessed up before he decides to hurtle after them. The goats kick their back legs and head off across the fields. The Shetland Pony that shares their paddock looks on unconcernedly.

The schools go back today after a two week break. The five year olds waiting for the bus wave at Bob and Sophie. The two tikes are too busy looking glumly at their phones to notice us.

Angus has given up chocolate for Lent. He is also cutting down on wine to one small glass with dinner. He describes this state of affairs to the wine merchant. We agree that the obvious solution to this quandary is to drink better wine in smaller quantities.

Cakes, 'The Font' informs me, fall into the chocolate category.

White asparagus in the greengrocers. 

Back at home Angus describes the no cakes, limited wine abstemiousness to the PONs. Sophie looks as if she shares my pain. Self denial is not a concept that the family diva understands.

Valiance.

Windy this morning.

The Square outside the church in the little market town deserted.

Raspberry croissant on display. The PONs are interested but Angus being a croissant purist is unimpressed.

At the supermarket the Communal Solidarity people are out and about. A collection for the poor and needy. Angus asks what is wanted. '' Any baby goods would be most welcome ' says a man with an orange jacket. Angus buys a large packet of Pampers. Inflation seems to have run rampant in the diaper market since Angus last purchased such alimentary products. Or, on reflection, were they always expensive ?

Behind the church ( in what used to be the presbytery in those long ago days when there was still a priest in the village ) lives an old couple. They fly the tricoleur flag on a pole in their garden. He has bad legs and is unstintingly grumpy. She has the big 'C' and is charting a slow and uncomfortable path towards the inevitable. Usually, the car belonging to the district nurse is parked outside the house from nine until eleven. This has recently been joined, morning and afternoon,  by the white Range Rover Evoque belonging to the home help. Last week the doctor started coming every day. 

Today the lady of the house is in a wheelchair being pushed slowly along the lane by the nurse. The first time she's been out in six weeks. Her husband has been walked slowly over to a plastic chair by the war memorial where he can sit in the morning sunshine. The young doctor with the shaved head who plays wing in the local rugby team draws up in his little red Peugeot. He gets out and walks towards the woman. '' I wasn't expecting to see you gallivanting about like this " he says. The old lady sits upright  in the wheelchair , straightens her hair and laughs. I could almost swear she flutters her eyelashes. How endearingly French and feminine to be concerned about looking her best for the doctor. A little touch of valiance which makes me smile.

So starts a Sunday morning in a little village in deepest, deepest France profonde where nothing ever happens. A record of those things too unimportant for a diary but too important to go completely unrecorded.

Sisters.

Bob watches his sister. This morning she's eating dandelions on the lawn. When she's not eating dandelions she's rolling on her back and making cattle like lowing noises. He's in the back of the car and keen to get off to the bakers. She won't be hurried. His long suffering brotherly face says it all.

The joiner, the electrician, the builder, the gardener and the plumber all promised faithfully to show up this week. We've not seen  them ( although we did - unexpectedly - see the carpet fitter ). Will they show up this morning ?

Hats and radioactivity.

Out along the ridge. Our dawn of day routine. Bob is completely engrossed by a scent on the 30 km/h road sign. This means his sister and master head off alone. A full minute later there is a plaintive '' Wait for me ' bark as he rejoins the world. We discuss the Manafort sentencing and wonder what else will happen today. 

On our return journey it's Sophie who's the laggard. A time consuming drink from the pond in the corner of the horses field means that her brother is home before us and waiting in the back of the car . He yawns theatrically when we come through the gate. This is a non-verbal way of telling us he's ready to head off to the bakers.

Pandemonium as Sophie makes it clear her brother is in her spot in the car. Bob feigns deafness. Sophie protests some more. Bob gets down. Sophie gets up. Bob gets up and sits on his sister. Cue for more PONsong.

At last some semblance of order is restored.

Back at home brother and sister drink quietly and amicably from the same bowl. Seems somethings can be shared ... others can't.

Just another enthusiastic start to the day with two shaggy characters. Did I ever tell you that a home with PONs is a home where there is constant laughter ?

Why hats disappeared : https://lamaalrajih.com/2018/12/07/model-t-hats/

Radioactive tourism : https://www.calvertjournal.com/features/show/10946/into-the-zone-4-days-inside-chernobyls-secretive-stalker-subculture

Three thoughts to a sentence.

Last night the first shake, rattle and roll thunderstorm of the year. It came from nowhere. We were out for  a post dinner walk in the garden when it arrived. Calm one minute, 80 kilometre an hour winds and heavy rain the next. Dogs and owners were soaked by the time they made it back to the front door.

This morning, bar the wet gravel and some scattered watering cans,  you'd never know that wind had howled half the night. Out in the garden Sophie has opted for a restorative nap  ....

..... on her back.

I try to explain to her that this is inelegant way to start the day but am ignored. Not even the rumour that the Mueller report is due tomorrow lunchtime gets her to move.

At the vets Bob sits on the consulting table frozen in terror.

Sophie, who goes next, is convinced the vet is an adoring fan.

In their own separate ways PON vet visits are relatively easy affairs. With Bob the secret is timing.When the receptionist says the vet is ready Angus whistles the male PON straight from the back of the car, through the side door and into the consulting room. This removes - or at least reduces to a minimum - that difficult 'the vet will see you now' time.

After wards a trip for dogs and owners to the cafe for a reviving croissant and bowl of water ( or coffee ). They have Patte d'Ours - Bears Claws - on display this morning.

The book on Wendell Willkie is finished. The dust cover says its author is the Voltaire of American literature.  An interesting subject but the style is of the ' three thoughts to a line ' variety. This makes 'skimming' impossible.

The last two sentences beginning 'Once again though' are eye catching.

Lent starts. Booze and chocolate to be dispensed with.

Sophie would not be this reserved :  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rVSbZbCGM64

Three weeks notice.

The good weather has returned. It's forecast  to be in the low 20's today.

The PONs are ready for their early morning tour of the village.

Bob wonders why Angus is so slow in getting ready. PONs it must be said have very readable faces.

At the supermarket a burgundy I've never heard of - Maranges. No time like the present to buy a bottle - for purely educational reasons.

There is also in the ''exotics' section a Uruguayan wine and some cheerful looking Tunisian plonk which is described on the bottle as being 'intense and fruity'. This is probably a fair insight as to what lies within.

After the unexpected appearance of the carpet fitter we wait for the builders/joiner/gardeners/electricians to make an appearance.

Later this morning we're off to find a new insurance agent for The Rickety Old Farmhouse. The British company that has provided cover for the last ten years has written to say that because of Brexit they will no longer be able to help us. At least they've given us three weeks notice.

Dvorak in black and white : https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P_1N6_O254g

Unexpected workmen

Cold, wet and windy. Sophie returns from her pre-breakfast garden tour looking rather disheveled.

At 7:57 am Bob lets out his '' There is something untoward happening " bark.

The carpet fitter has shown up ...... unannounced.

'The Font' has seen Sophie hurtling down the polished wooden staircase doing an impersonation of the bionic woman. Sophie is quite uninhibited in her enthusiasm for taking three or four steps at a time. At high speed her rear legs move at unusual and improbable angles. The old staircase was rather grand but an executive decision was taken that carpeted traction was better than  metallic knee fractures.

The carpet fitter does his best  but it quickly becomes apparent that little progress is going to be made with two sheepdogs supervising every move . The PONs are encouraged into the snug where they remain , complaining loudly, until the carpet is fitted. 

After three hours the angelic duo are allowed out to help with placing the furniture back where it belongs.

The joiner, gardener and builder all promise to be here tomorrow. The vets appointment is set for first thing on Thursday.

One of Madame Bay's great grand daughters has always wanted to work in a tattoo parlour. Now she's sixteen she has her chance. Madame Bay does not approve. '' Not fit and proper for a young woman ". The front door of the tattoo parlour has a sign that assures clients it has a '' Guarantee of Hygiene ". Angus had never thought about tattoo hygiene until now. He quietly shudders. Should I go in and ask to see the guarantee ? Would that be a sure sign I've completed the transformation into my father ?

This morning Angus and the PONs note that John Hickenlooper has joined an already crowded field of Democrat Presidential candidates. The PONs are greatly taken with the name.  Guess that means he has a PONdorsement.


Had never given any thought to the trauma of being a Facebook moderator : https://www.theverge.com/2019/2/25/18229714/cognizant-facebook-content-moderator-interviews-trauma-working-conditions-arizona?

Just another Monday morning.

For Angus the day ahead already planned. Call the joiner, chivvy along the electrician, talk to the builder about all the things he promised to complete last year ... or the year before. Book an appointment with the vet for Bob and Sophie's annual jabs. Remember to chase up the gardener to order replacement lavenders for those that didn't survive the winter winds. Talk to men in dark suits about Rand Paul and debt ceilings and sequestration.

A sliver of  crescent moon, as thin and delicate as a piece of bone china, greets the PONs as they head out of the gate. It turns salmon pink as the sun rises. Sophie stares at the sky in a way that makes me wonder what she sees. That ' You tell me it's a moon but oh! What a moon ! ' look. Bob glances upwards then hurtles along the lane, head down, tail high, uncoordinated feet tripping over each other in pursuit of some magical scent. Why look at the stars when there's a fox around ?

A new day. High adventure awaits. A universe of excitement to be discovered. Yogurt pots to be glared at in the unshakable hope that they will refill themselves. Donkeys, goats and horses all greeted. C-A-T-S chased.

Dogs have retained the ability to immerse themselves in the moment. Enthusiasm and excitement their constant guides. Lucky the dog owner who has a shaggy companion to remind them of this essential part of life. 

Just another Monday morning. But, oh, what a Monday morning.

The right sound for today : https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WUrVLhaDTSQ

This Twitter feed about how blogs exist in a courteous 2003-2011 social media dimension is one of the most interesting things I've read in ages. Blogs are very last generation. https://twitter.com/Scholars_Stage/status/1099222129550086149