6:08 am is Sophie's prefered time to wake up. This is also the time when her master starts his day. There is a causal linkage between the two events - an ear piercing ' Let's get the day started' shriek. Angus thinks Sophie's ability to wake up at exactly the same time every day surely makes her some form of canine savant. 'The Font' rather more prosaically thinks Sophie hears the farmer at the crossroads start up his tractor.
This morning PONette and master are in agreement that the cake offering at the bakers is unadventurous in the extreme. Angus also thinks the croissant tastes ever so slightly of cheese. Sophie eats the croissant ends with evident gusto so perhaps I'm mistaken.
Brie de Nangis in the supermarket. We prefer Brie de Melun to Brie de Meaux but this is the first time I've seen Brie de Nangis. We opt not to buy it. The cheese looks as though it's been wrapped in cellophane for a week and hasn't enjoyed the experience.
In the greengrocers exotic Chinese Pomelos for three bucks a pop. Angus has no idea what an exotic Pomelo is so they are passed by in silence.
Back at The Rickety Old Farmhouse after her first outing of the day Sophie looks in need of a thorough grooming.
Strong winds mean the flight to London is delayed. Angus has a chance to linger in the airport shops and marvel at the products on offer.
The airport has recently had a major makeover. Now you are channelled through an arcade of brightly lit stores before you get to the boarding gates. This being Toulouse there is an emphasis on rugby products or Airbus paraphernalia.
London is supposed to be wet but turns out to be mercifully dry. The new poke, pound, pummel and prod surgeon is punctual - to the minute. He is wearing a duck egg blue golf jumper and a check shirt. This look manages to combine sartorial elegance with the air of a man who has just finished playing nine holes. He uses the word 'pain' rather than the more reassuring euphemism 'manageable discomfort'. After ten minutes the duck egg blue surgeon moves on to discussing his fees. This distracts Angus from the 'manageable discomfort'.
Over dinner the serious Manhattanites are given a tour of 2020. Constitutional crisis, climate change and the Chinese conundrum. The six 'C's. They seem happy enough.
The first British Airways flight home is full of middle age men off on a weekend rugby trip. Gloucester is playing Toulouse. The middle age men are of the jolly sort who arrive at the aircraft galley and shout down to their mate on row 22 'Are you on the plane Harry ?'. Angus feels like telling them to believe the evidence of their own eyes and leave the rest of us in peace. One of the side effects of the new pills prescribed by the golfing surgeon is 'irritability'.
Back at home Sophie gives her master a ' Where do you think you've been ? ' look that makes it plain that irritability is not the sole preserve of her master. She settles for a lengthy and noisy reunion.
A start of day trip to the lawyers to have documents signed and witnessed. Brexit and its related paperwork creates lucrative business for those in the legal profession. Scottish documents must now be replicated by French ones.
The notaires waiting room still has a Christmas tree glowing away in a corner. The French seem to leave their decorations up until the end of the month unlike the Brits who hurry to get them down a couple of days after the New Year.
On our morning walk the donkeys are down in the bottom of the field sheltering from the biting wind that's blowing up here on top of the ridge. Sophie barks to alert them to her presence. They don't trot up to see us either because they've not heard her or can't be bothered. The latter is more likely.
Angus explains to Sophie that he has to go back to London for the day to see the new push, poke, prod and pummel surgeon. He is also going to be speaking to some Manhattanites over dinner. The first time he's done this since September. One of those 'Things to watch out for in 2020 ' type affairs. Last year China was top of the list. This year it's the voters in Wisconsin and Michigan and the consequences of a wafer thin result in the electoral college.
What can you say ? : https://twitter.com/joncoopertweets/status/1216211063982653440
From inside the house it's clear that outside the house there's the most wonderful sunrise.
Angus and Sophie saunter along the lane enjoying the light come up and the dark disappear. For a few minutes Sophie glows bright salmon pink. The ultimate diva. The horses wander over to see us. Sophie picks up pace and we pass them without her looking up. She makes sure Angus is between her and the horses. You can never be too sure with horses.
This morning we go to the cafe by the motorway. The cake selection is humdrum .....
.... but the croissants are as good as anything you'd get in Paris. In our time in France we've become great croissant snobs. You'd think that all croissants here would be great. Not true. Some taste like processed white bread. Others like brioche. Most are on the right side of acceptable. It's something to do with the way the dough is folded and refolded. At this cafe they're just right. Having them still warm from the oven may be a major factor in how we rank them. Sophie is less fussy. For her all croissant ends score a hearty 11/10. Two croissant ends score 12/10.
'The Font' has been in Scotland making sure the wee house is ready for our next group of visiting American academics. The last tenants had two lively young children. Nothing the decorator wasn't able to see to with a couple of quick touch up coats.
It is that time of the year when 'The Font' thinks it would be a good idea to leap in the car and head north to a new Swedish hotel. It has a spa but even Sophie might find it chilly. There is a great day out with the 'Moose whisperer' : https://arcticbath.se/
As music goes this is very innocent :
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6x7g1ynrvAM
Sophie is up and about early which is more than can be said for the hyacinths which steadfastly refuse to do anything much. We had hoped they'd be out in time for Christmas but I guess we didn't stipulate which year.
The moles have been busy again. It must be something to do with this unseasonal warmth. The lawn a disaster zone. There must be a couple of hundred or so of these unsightly mounds scattered around the garden.
Sophie spends much of her day excavating these mole hills. The fact the moles are long gone doesn't seem to impact on her enjoyment.
What better way for a girl to enjoy herself than by digging up the lawn ? She is certainly too distracted to discuss how Senator Warren did in last nights debate and she certainly doesn't want to hear the name Lev Parnas mentioned - ever.
Getting lighter in the mornings now. Some wispy horse tail cloud high in the sky. A sign that a cold front is on its way.
As we head out of the gate for our early walk The Rickety Old Farmhouse lit by the first rays of the morning sun. The village owls cluster on the branches of the plane trees by the gate and hoot at us in annoyance. How dare anyone disturb them ! They flutter their wings. Sophie glares back at them. Three deer wandering slowly along the lane look at us and then hurry off into the walnut grove .
We return just after eight to find a funeral going on. The mayors younger brother. They bury them quickly here. The family still in that state of mild disbelief. Their senses tell them that a loved one has gone but their emotions haven't yet registered the fact. ' All argument is against it, but all belief is for it ' as Dr. Johnson said.That rather kind and sophisticated French way of mourners saying farewell by scattering rose petals on the coffin. The ancient priest from the retirement home trotted out for the ceremony. He must be in his nineties. He has brought his guitar.
Even though it's early the kitchen in the village hall is a scene of activity as Madame Bay and her friend Renee ( pronounced Ray-knay ) open bottles of wine and slice up freshly baked quiche for a post service wake. They sang Ave Maria at the beginning of the service and then scurried over to turn the ovens on. The area around the church solid with farmers cars and vans. Some things change but French villagers, young and old, still take the time to say farewell to one of their own. That's still true in the Scottish islands but I wonder where else that courtesy holds strong.
For their second walk of the day Sophie and her master wander up the hill to the horse field. From here we can see the whole village. Church, town hall, the chateau, the water tower and the dozen or so houses that make up our small patch of paradise. Sophie has her ears scrunched and is told -as she is told every morning - that this is her home.
Just another quiet start to the day in a small French village where nothing ever happens.
Yesterday, Sophie had the hair round her eyes trimmed. A PON that can see is a PON that doesn't throw herself , howling, against the gate when the post lady comes.
This morning you wouldn't know that her hair had been carefully trimmed. In fact you wouldn't know she'd received any grooming attention - ever.
We wait for the morning rush hour to pass - the young garagiste in his little Citroen with the raspy exhaust, 4 old farmers in white vans, the school bus, the late running doctors secretary and the multi-tasking woman who brushes the hair of her two six year olds as she careens along the lane. After they've gone Sophie and her master get in the car and set off for our morning coffee.
Wild garlic flowers for sale in the greengrocers. I would ask if they were grown locally and what they're used for. However, this is one of those mornings when there's no one about apart from the irritable cashier. The fierce ' she who must not be spoken to ' woman.
And here, in a strangely addictive video, are some Polish men standing in a field singing . As good and as cheerful a way as any to start a new week :
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mNPKBmQ-1go
Sophie starts her Sunday morning with the observation that the moles have been busy on the lawn. At least twenty fresh mole hills this morning. This is a cause for much excitement .... and fevered but inept digging.
She is given a quick grooming to remove some of the mud from her paws and muzzle. It goes without saying that the moles are completely safe. Sophie's mole hunting routine is like her C-A-T chasing routine - full throated.
Sophie is told she's a walking advert for having short haired dogs.
Sunrise. A black C-A-T has been sleeping on the logs in the wood store . Sophie picks up the scent and is out of the house in hot pursuit before you can say ' Bingo ! ' Despite - or perhaps because of - her titanium knees Sophie can move at a remarkable speed. The black C-A-T is quicker.
It goes without saying that our start to the day is accompanied by an 'enthusiastic' sound track. It also goes without saying that any villager trying to get a long uninterrupted lie in is less than delighted.
The bakers wife isn't on duty today. The baker appears from the kitchen with a two year old round his neck and a gaggle of others following on behind. His front of house presence coupled to the absence of his wife usually indicates that a new arrival is on the way. In this instance it might be better to say yet another new arrival is on the way.
A hint that the bakers family routine is out of kilter is the lack of cakes on display. I opt for an Opera and a Caramel eclair for me and Rhum Bhaba and a raspberry tartlet for 'The Font'. The latter will of course be tasted, the word 'delicious' mouthed and then the remainder pushed across to me to finish. Angus will then follow up with the redundant question ' Are you sure you don't want the rest of it ? '
$100,000 a year at Taco Bell. I'm not sure I've ever been in a Taco Bell. Denny's- yes; Taco Bell - no. It was nonetheless something of a surprise to see this article : https://www.bloomberg.com/news/articles/2020-01-09/taco-bell-offering-100-000-salary-amid-mounting-worker-shortage
The Old Farmer is up and about early to cut his lawn. The small lawn tractor that he uses is barely up to the task . It wheezes and gulps.
On the road here The Old Farmer saw a lorry with Lithuania number plates. He waved the driver down. The unsuspecting Lithuanian is told a lengthy tale about the war, a German prisoner of war camp for French officers,his fathers tomb on the Belarus frontier and the kindness of locals. He and the Old Farmer exchange phone numbers. What language they have communicated in is left unsaid. This may be a case of international bemusement. More importantly this is the sort of devil may care thing you can do when you're in your late eighties.
Our neighbour also tells me that earlier in the day he saw two cranes flying Eastwards . ' We'll have a bitter spell in two weeks. Better be prepared ' I'm told with countryman certainty.
Sophie continues to look like a dog that is suffering from neglect.
Cardoons in the greengrocers. We had them once in Scotland but 'The Font' vowed never to do them again. The amount of work was immense and the end result forgettable.
Something unlabeled on the spice counter. Small peppers ?
The presence of heavily armed riot police at the motorway slip road tells me that there's another nationwide strike going on. We know for sure the air traffic controllers aren't working - there's an absence of aircraft contrails in the morning sky. The radio presenters have also downed tools. The airwaves free of start of day chit chat. Instead we get back to back esoteric musical moments of the 70's. Johnny Matthis a big thing this morning. Out here in the depth of the countryside events in the big cities seem far away. Over breakfast 'The Font' delphically observes that the French are a people who live in paradise but think they live in hell.
Our start of day routine well established. Sophie gets harnessed up. She then sits and waits for Angus to put on his shoes, She starts off meaning to be patient but her impatience soon becomes apparent. If Angus is particularly dilatory she yelps.
This is a yelp morning enlivened by finding, and then shredding, some kitchen roll.
At the storm drain we pause. Angus looks out across the valley. Sophie digs up ( and then savours ) some buried fox poo. We discuss the decision by Harry and Meghan to 'step back' from royal duties. Sophie thinks they'll probably end up living in Vancouver. Angus thinks it's more likely they'll slum it in Malibu or Bel Air.
Galette des rois still for sale in the bakers. You'd think that they'd stop being sold after the 6th of January but there seems to be a market for them .
The chaffinches much in evidence on the bird bath. Later on in the day the chaffinches will be replaced by blue tits. They in turn will be replaced by sparrows. Three robins will follow. Each species seems to have an agreed time for their ablutions. I have absolutely no idea why this should be the case but it is a routine that is strictly adhered to. There is no avian shared bathing.
Music for a chilly winter morning : https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Hx-ntT-1jSw
