Microsoft has been busy. The latest update has well and truly scuppered the computer. This mornings blog post may, or may not, work. E-mails most certainly don't.
Angus expresses his displeasure under his breath. His furry companion has no interest in downloads. She just wants to get out to see the sunrise.
She also knows that soon, possibly very soon, curly croissant ends will make an appearance in her day.
The life of a Vermont duck farmer : https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCjl3zDun9SazYI0UWWu6_1A
1:37 am. Sophie let's us know there is someone, or something, outside. Job done, she then goes back to sleep. This morning I open the postbox to find a copy of the village newsletter. The new mayor has been doing his ' wee hours of the morning ' thing of delivering them in the pitch dark.
The newsletter tells us that 1) Two free face masks a week are available from the town hall for those who need them 2) There will be scarecrow making classes in the Salle de Fetes on alternate Thursdays in September and 3) the village hall kitchens will be closed until further notice but the outdoor barbecue is available until the 'current problems are resolved ( please employ social distancing ) '. This gives you a flavour of the pace of life in our deeply unfashionable corner of paradise. Judging of the 'village fleuri ' competition has been cancelled for this year.
After the storms the little stream and waterfall have returned to life. Not a gushing return but a sedentary trickle is better than nothing. Sophie has a long and noisy drink. She also tries fishing for minnows but even she recognizes that she's merely going through the motions.
On our way to this mornings cafe we stop at the lights and find that the Cirque Franco-Belge is in town. It has set itself up in the parking lot by the shops that sell end of roll carpets and discounted wallpaper.
Angus starts on a book about Eastern Orthodox Christianity. A subject he knows absolutely nothing about. He's reading it because Hagia Sophia in Istanbul has been converted back into a mosque. Why this should be bad when Spanish mosques have been converted into cathedrals is something he feels he should get to grips with. The book although well reviewed is written in that trendily jaunty ' I'm a young Eastern Orthodox priest and this is what you should know' style. It can only get better.
Getting out of New York : https://stormking.org/
A picnic place with a story : https://www.domainedumeteore.com/the-meteor/
This is an interesting insight :
https://rusi.org/commentary/vaccine-nationalism-ugly-face-science-and-politics
Overnight there has been a lightning storm. It brings some much needed rain. Around midnight Sophie decides to wander upstairs to sleep under the dressing room table. As all PONs know it's prudent for even the bravest dog to be near your family amid banshee winds and growling thunder.
As the sun rises we're off along the ridge to the donkey field. Usually, Sophie walks on the tarmac but today is a day for sashaying through the leaves. This makes a very satisfying ( to PON ears ) crunching noise. Where the leaves have blown into piles she flips on her back and squirms with joy. Some piles are pounced on in a burst of tail wagging delight.
Down through the sunflower fields to the stream. Minnows are ineptly fished for. Then back up the hill, into the car and off to the cafe. Today we choose the cafe with the audacious sparrows that flock around the table in hope of croissant crumbs. We're early and are the only people there although the new drive thru baguette window is doing a roaring trade. Today dog and master discuss the early recall of Congress and the Russian move on Belarus. Putin can't allow Belarus to be free so things in Minsk are looking bleak.
A rather attractive fraisier ( oddly ) decorated with raspberries catches my eye.
Another high summer morning where life gently drifts along.
This morning Angus and Sophie are heading off for eight old varieties of tomatoes.' The Font' wants to peel and confit them for a ' I've got lots of time during the second lockdown' salad. The greengrocer e-mails us to say that he'll be there at seven but ' Can we please remember to wear a mask ?'.
At six thirty it's bright enough for a walk through the sunflower fields. Each flower seems to have two bees working diligently away. Where do they go when the sunflowers are harvested ? What else could possible keep them busy en masse during the rest of the year ? On the far side of the valley the farmer has raised the netting over the apple trees. There is now an unattractive grey plasticy shape on the landscape.
Hygiene dictates that our morning croissant is again served in a paper bag. Angus scores it 8.8/10. Sophie thinks it warrants a 14. She'd happily have a second .... or a third.
The Tilleul tree has been given a sign indicating that it was planted in 1789. Angus thinks it improbable that a linden tree would last that long. The oaks yes, the lindens, no. We have some of them in the garden- sickly things that ooze black sap onto the ground.
I shall have to research the longevity of tree types but for the moment Angus is unconvinced that they were planted to commemorate the revolution. Madame Bay makes a foul smelling herbal infusion from dried Tilleul leaves.
So starts another day in a French village in high summer. No pilgrims, few locals, no visitors of any description. The motorway busy with Belgian and Dutch cars heading north in case a 14 day quarantine rule is imposed. The Brits have already gone. The fancy rental house that goes for $10 thousand bucks a week in high summer had been let to an English high court judge and his wife. They managed to get two seats on the BA flight from Toulouse to London before the 14 day quarantine was imposed. They have been forced to leave their very shiny grey Mercedes estate car behind . It will be collected at a later date.
Sunday morning music : https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9FaE32klkhc
Much cooler this morning. Still no rain. Will anything in the garden survive this drought ? Heading along the lane we pass what appears to be a pile of rags on the ground outside The Old Farmers door. Closer inspection shows that it's not a pile of rags but our 87 year old neighbour, on the floor, changing the oil on the venerable Ford Transit motorhome. From time to time he swears quietly to himself .
The Old Farmer and his 'lady friend' have had enough of being cooped up in this heat. They are heading off along the back roads into the wilds of the Massif Central to escape people and get some fresh air.
The wardrobe of the 'lady friend' has taken up all the space in the venerable Ford Transits interior. He wonders if she needs to bring so many dresses. She informs him that ' Yes! They are all needed '. The emphasis is on the word 'all'. He again swears under his breath.
Their departure is delayed while The Old Farmer attaches a US Army 1945 'Liberation' era two wheeled trailer to the rear of the motor home. She arranges his clothes, six cases of beer and the food for their journey in it. The trailer then has to be repacked as he decides he wants to bring along a spare tyre and an oil change. Then with a beep they're suddenly off along the lane.
The world turns. Minsk metro mens silent witness : https://twitter.com/i/status/1294211871050997764
The 141/179 statistic made me happy to be a Brit : https://twitter.com/SianCMacLeod/status/1294289532670672896
Sophie has been playing hide and seek in the sunflower fields. She's been bitten by mites. The best way of dealing with this is a bath and some calming shampoo. Angus lures the unsuspecting PONette into the garden where she is given a thorough dousing. In return he gets the patented ' How could you treat a poor maiden so ? ' look.
The Old Farmer is working on the venerable Ford Transits brake linings. He's been to see the surgeon about having a new hip operation. They gave him a four hour medical. ' They did my eyes, my toes, you name it ' . The surgeon has told him that there's no need for an operation. This seems a very sensible approach for an 87 , coming on 88, year old patient.
The magic word ' croissant ' has Sophie on her feet and looking on the bright, post bath, side of life.
We're in time to be greeted by the municipal refuse workers.
The croissant served in a brown paper bag. France is preparing itself for a second lockdown although every table on the cafe terrace is full. Sophie is brought a bowl of water with ice cube in it. The trip to the cafe and back with the windows down soon has Sophies fur fluffed up and air dried.
Dogs clearly did it for food and ear scrunches. This is why cats did it : https://massivesci.com/notes/cats-rats-mice-humans-food-archaeology/
An unusual topic of conversation : https://www.cnrs.fr/en/cremation-middle-east-dates-far-back-7000-bc
Early birds : https://mcgill.ca/newsroom/channels/news/some-dinosaurs-could-fly-they-were-birds-323548
The storms arrive. They prove to be of the well behaved variety. The temperature drops but there's no rain. We open all the shutters and the temperature inside The Rickety Old Farmhouse falls from an uncomfortable 28 degrees to a balmy 19.
Angus is up early and talking to men in dark suits. Every so often the door to the office is nudged open by a cold wet nose and Sophie comes in to remind me that there are more important things I should be doing. Todays conversation wanders onto the subject of Marjorie Taylor Greene. Angus and the men in dark suits are a little befuddled over what QAnon actually is.
The cable man comes bright and early to see whether its possible to have broadband access throughout the house. At the moment a couple of rooms downstairs get it,the rest don't. After half an hour he decides that the walls are too thick . It might be possible but only if the entire electrical system was ripped out and a new one installed. Netflix , might just work if we drill a hole from the junction box in my office through the ceiling . This would at least enable us to get through the winter without having to order DVD's from Amazon. We're nearly at the end of season 7 of Parks and Recreation. What will we do when we come to the end of the season ?
Sophie finally makes it quite plain that she's waited long enough. The Eastern Mediterranean, Belarus, the collapse of the Turkish Lira and Netflix installation can wait.
This piece of music , sung by a Ukrainian choir, accompanied Sophie and her master on their trip to the bakers : https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2LBBaD1aQuw
,
The start of day heat like Galveston in August. The weather forecast keeps on promising storms and torrential rain. They've missed us for two nights in a row. Perhaps they'll come charging down from the mountains tonight ?
The sunflower seem able to withstand this blast furnace weather. The grass along the path that leads down into the valley can't. The stream hasn't quite dried up but it's barely flowing. My furry companion looks for minnows but is disappointed.
Walk over we're away in the VW to the cafe at the roundabout. Sophie loves sitting in the back of the car with the windows down. We're too early to be greeted by the municipal refuse collectors. Today there's a new waitress who brings me the croissant in a brown paper bag. I have to ask for a bowl of water for Sophie. The croissant is a 9/10.
Into the frozen food store for a bag of oven chips. They sell frogs legs. Not something you'd find in a Scottish store.
The youngsters from the special needs school had a socially distanced gathering on the village green. A variety of tents are put up for shade. This gives the village something of the look of a medieval encampment. The special needs folks particularly love this song which is repeated forever - and I mean forever : https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Uw2xXT6Sk7k
Storms were forecast. They passed us by. The Rickety Old Farmhouse and its inhabitants enjoyed a quiet night. This morning the countryside bathed in sunshine. Sophie does three circuits of the old abbey then returns home.
Not a soul to be seen this morning. Everyone away at the beaches. In this heat that's an entirely rational place to be. Angus notes that the statue by the car park has had a fresh coat of paint. There must be some folk still around.
This mornings croissant better than it looks. It scores a respectable 7/10. Sophie enjoys the two curly ends and also the small 'amuse bouche' that comes with the coffee. Her tail wags with delight.
The brain adling heat has clearly got to the baker. This mornings display decidedly ' high summer '.
This architects house is very 'particular' : https://youtu.be/WWaaui_5ZNI
Music for a very hot Tuesday morning : https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=39OFMgh6JwY
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/
