The service history.

 

I chat with the Old Farmer about getting him a 'medallion' from Mercedes to show he's done nearly 750 thousand kilometres in the silver saloon - ( a service kindly brought to my attention by  ' The Life of Riley ' a few days ago ) . As the old car is his pride and joy this would , presumably, give him great satisfaction. Mercedes need to have the mileage certified before they'll consider the request. 'The service records from the dealership will do' a man at the head office in Stuttgart informs me in accent free English. ' When did you last take it to dealership ?' I ask The Old Farmer. " Oh, about thirty years ago " comes the reply. The Old Farmer is a believer in self servicing his vehicles.  Some other method of certifying the mileage will need to be found.

The exterior of the silver Mercedes may be pristine but the interior has the 'feel' of 750 thousand kilometres of use.

The grass verges bursting into bloom with wild flowers. Sophie plows through them, nose down, in search of anything the owls might have dropped. This morning she bounces, ever so slightly, as she walks through the grass. Happiness will do this to a girl.

The orchids in the field at the foot of the hill coming into bloom. It looks as if they suffered in the strong winds on Monday and Tuesday.

Angus goes to the hospital. It's time for his six monthly post falling off a ladder check up.  He is passed from one doctor to the next for a full two hours. There is almost no waiting time between specialists. A brisk young German surgeon finally informs him that ' Everything looks acceptable but avoid climbing ladders at your age '. Angus makes a mental note to make sure the first thing he does when he gets home is climb up a ladder. The cost of this check-up ? The grand total of 70 euros.

For once, Sophie looks almost presentable. She sits with 'The Font' at a cafe on the Place de la Republique waiting for Angus to reappear. A cheerful Newfoundland is told in no uncertain terms that she doesn't want to make his acquaintance.

Last night we dine, virtually, in Glasgow. Post Brexit fish shipments to Europe are down so a new breed of Scottish sea food restaurant is taking off. The sort of place that offers everything from fish and chip suppers to oysters :https://static1.squarespace.com/static/61f6af2eda35940165dc0042/t/6250075cd256d97cc8b32c88/1649411934458/Crabshakk+Finnieston+Website+menu+April+2022.pdf

The fish.

A bright warm start for our walk through the onion fields. Sophie is raring to go. We've been up early talking to folks in New York about the mid terms and Kevin McCarthy and Hunter Bidens laptop. The word 'impeachment' makes an unwelcome return to the daily vocabulary.

Down by the stream Sophie heads off , head down, into the middle of a ploughed field. The cause of her detour soon discovered. A stork has dropped a fish which is now happily rotting away. Sophie has taken two bites out of it before I arrive to ruin her enjoyment.

The farmers wife has started picking the strawberries in her polytunnels. She drops of a kilo at the gate when she's heading into town. For the next six weeks Angus will have strawberries at breakfast, lunch and dinner.

Todays croissant of the ' it's been an hour since it left the oven ' variety. Ever so slightly stale. It's scored 8.2/10.

What is it with the daisies?  Angus cut the lawn on Wednesday. Look at it today. They are sprouting like mad.

I'd never heard of this :https://www.visualcapitalist.com/cp/the-yuxi-circle-the-worlds-most-densely-populated-area/

Coffee in Seattle :https://pegasuscoffee.com/

A hint of drama

Thursday morning starts with more than a hint of drama.

There are young cows in the valley. Sophie sees them and picks up her pace. The young cows decide to follow her. Sophie accelerates. So do they. Soon we're scampering along the old Roman road with the cows in hot pursuit.

There comes a point where the cows find a fence and can't go any further . They line up and stand and look at the PONette. Faced by thirty or so large beasts the PONette has no intention of lingering a moment longer than she has to. This morning she opts to head straight back home, giving a miss to the waterfall, and the inquisitive cows. We clamber back up the hill at a 'brisk' pace. Sophie doesn't look behind. PONs intuitively know that what you can't see can't bother you.

If that's not excitement enough we find that a tree has fallen across the old ox track that leads back up to the village. This requires careful examination.

So starts a Thursday morning walk on the wild side.

French election time. A season when British academics feel constrained to write about their closest ( geographic ) neighbour :https://unherd.com/2022/04/the-future-is-marine-le-pen/

The run up to Easter.

Good morning from Sophie. 

It's still extremely windy although it's now gusting from the east rather than from the west. It is the sort of wind that has the strength to lift not just one, but both, PON ears.

We find a sheltered table, out of the wind, at the back of the cafe for our morning croissant and coffee. The world is a turbulent place and there is much that needs to be discussed this morning. The French customers, safe and warm inside, look out in quiet bemusement as dog and owner chat away.  It must be admitted that my canine companion seems more interested in curly croissant ends than affairs of state.

Back to the village to check that no errant C-A-T-S have taken over the place.

Then home to settle down in a sunny spot for a restorative start of day nap.

Looks as if drone deliveries will take a while longer to arrive :https://www.theverge.com/2022/4/11/23020549/amazon-struggling-drone-deliveries-prime-air-bezos

Can this be true ? :https://www.city-journal.org/california-public-schools-are-failing

Non-verbal.

5:30 am. Angus comes downstairs to talk to serious folks in LA.  At this hour of the morning the family diva is sound asleep. She pulls herself up onto her haunches and gives me a look that makes it quite clear what she thinks of this change in her routine. Sophie has many ways of communicating. Most of them non-verbal.

It's been windy overnight. A real humdinger of an Atlantic storm has thundered in from the Bay of Biscay. This morning the peonies are looking decidedly battered. The wisteria over the front door seems to have survived .... just.

The daffodils are now coming to an end. Tulips replacing them. The year is moving along a with a Thelma and Louise like speed and recklessness. Sophie finds a large hedgehog under an oak tree. She knows that hedgehog spines are prickly so she alerts me to its presence by emitting the PON 'howl'. 

So starts a Tuesday morning in deepest, deepest France profonde. The Old Farmer will be going into the market town for his Easter shopping later today. He expects to pass the 700,000 km in the venerable Mercedes en route.

 

No surprises

No great surprises in the first round of the French presidential elections. Village turnout was 100%. It's not that the villagers have a great interest in politics but what else are they going to do on a  Sunday afternoon ? There was also a village barbecue in the car park. An innovation introduced by the new mayor.  60% of the villagers voted for the President, 30% for LePen and the balance for Melenchon.

This morning the smell of charred lamb lingers in the air.  Last night the ladies of the Beautiful Byeways Committee opted to 'party' rather than clear up the grill. They will be back this morning. Sophie , who has taken up position so she can see everyone that passes along the lane, will be ready to greet them. Her nose is 'twitching' in anticipation.

. 

We're into full on wild flower season. It's as if a switch has been flipped. The hedgerows displaying their finest.

No one could be more cynical about British politicians but this brief video is a reminder that in times like these there is nothing  despots fear more than a walk about , a handshake and a chat : https://twitter.com/DefenceU/status/1512867082932793347

 

An excellent day - on many levels.

The first round of the French presidential elections. The old mayor is out and about early setting up the trestle tables and arranging the chairs . Voting always used to take place in the Mairie but the pandemic has caused a move to the more spacious and better ventilated village hall. A single row of Christmas lights continues to flicker away in its windows. The old farmer is also up early. He's replacing the oil in the 30+ year old silver Mercedes. ' Going to clock up 700 thousand kilometers this week ' he informs me cheerfully. That is indeed a cause for wonder and celebration.

Another excellent day for croissants. Light, fluffy and with just the right amount of surface crunchiness . Sophie is completely in agreement that this mornings offering is wonderful. There again Sophie thinks every mornings offering is wonderful. How can you put a number on wonder ? Angus suggests a 9.6/10. From the manic tail waving Sophie seems to be thinking more of 15/10.

Some exciting smells down by the waterfall ....

..... and some intriguing scents in the grass verges. Three Rafale fighter jets from the big base at Mont de Marsan fly over at tree top height. I don't think I've ever seen planes so low or so fast. Military aircraft practising on a Sunday morning are a sure sign of geopolitical stress.

While the old mayor waits for the first voters to show up Sophie opts for a restorative nap by the front door. With a whirlwind social life Sophie knows a diva has to catch her napettes when and where she can. Soon Madame Bay and the ladies of the Beautiful Byeways Committee will show up with 'bakery treats' for the village voters. Four years ago her chocolate and pecan cookies were a great hit. This year turnout may be low but if anything can get the voters out it will be a 'bakery treat'.  

This article captures the sense of ennui amongst the French citizenry rather well :https://unherd.com/2022/04/how-marine-le-pen-conquered-normandy/

 Last night we dine 'virtually'  in Fife :https://www.16westend.com/diiner-menu

and Angus dreams of Italian Easter eggs :https://www.pasticceriamarchesi.com/gb/en.html

We discover there is such a thing as a 'mixologue' : https://www.skybarparis.com/fr

Close run race

There's a strong wind blowing. I turn on the lights in the library and find the PONette stretched out, snoring, on the floor. She's wandered in here during the night, the door has closed behind her and she's fallen into a deep and untroubled sleep.

There was a time when she'd be up and about the very second she heard me come down stairs. Now she has arrived at an age where she segues, gracefully, and at her own pace, into her morning routine.

For those who wanted to see the bakers 'Bella' Easter creation, here it is.

This morning there is an American looking van parked outside the bakers. The driver of this 'Route 66'  vehicle is wearing a checkered shirt with the sleeves cut off. He also has one of those ' Civil War' type beards.

This mornings croissant truly superb. A 9.6/10. 

The radio now full of academics and what the French call 'politologues' talking non-stop about the first round of the Presidential elections this weekend. Events in Ukraine no longer dominate the headlines. The radio commentators talk over each other, reach dire conclusions and would have us believe the President is at real risk. This makes for excellent radio but Angus is unconvinced.

 Question of the day :https://bigthink.com/life/why-do-parrots-live-so-long/

Tableaux

Gale force winds forecast. Angus does a tour of the garden to make sure everything that can be battened down, is. Sophie watches me anxiously. She's not bothered about the brewing storm. She's rather more concerned that I've forgotten to take her off in the car for her morning croissant ends. When you're a nine year old PONette routine is all important. PONs have faces that tell you immediately what they're thinking. She is reassured and loaded into the back of the car.

The bakers display cabinet covered in chocolate Easter 'tableaux'. The bakers wife tells me that Christmas is their busiest and most profitable time with Buche de Noel accounting for 45% of their annual sales. I query this number - 45% sounds high. It seems that all the local firms order Buche de Noel for their staff so they churn out literally thousands of them. Easter is big on chocolate but the cost of buying moulds for the 'creations' is high and the volumes are lower.

I buy a fruit tart and a black and white chocolate cow. The bakers wife informs me the cow is named 'Bella'. Over breakfast with 'The Font' I discuss how odd it is that the bakers wife should give names to her 'creations'.

Sophie has a trip to the river to glare at cormorants and have a lengthy drink from the water. The council workmen have cleared all the flotsam and jetsam away so she has an unimpeded access to the water side.  Eagle eyed readers may observe that Sophie had a trim last week. The cold weather ( that was not forecast ) has prevented any subsequent 'tidying up'.

What do you make of this ? : https://www.eurekalert.org/news-releases/948031

Last night we dined, virtually, in Ocean City - a town chosen at random on Google : http://www.thehobbitrestaurant.com/menu

Torn.

The man at the garage has gone down with the flu. Seems everyone is going down with it here.  The big car had been taken to the car wash in readiness for being sold but now has a stay of execution. The glove box and seat pockets have been emptied of five years worth of detritus and the back hoovered to remove dog hairs. It almost looks respectable.

The Presidents poster, the one that had been torn in two, has been replaced. The replacement poster has already been vandalized. Even in a village of 67 souls the incumbent becomes a lightning rod for all manner of  disenchantments.

The poster of the candidate in second position in the polls is not vandalized. In previous elections the village tikes have given the 2nd and 3rd place candidates horns and a moustache. In fact , on reflection, by this stage the village tikes have usually 'improved' all the posters.

Sophie shows zero interest in the French political landscape. She wants to know when we're heading off to the river and the bakers for our shared croissant. Politics may come and go but a girls priorities are inviolable.

 

One car.

A trip to Toulouse this morning. We're not using the big car and I'm thinking of selling it. Pre-pandemic we drove off in it all the time but for the last two and a bit years it's rarely been used. We've not been a one car family in forty five years so there's been a small voice in the back of my mind saying keep it as a backup in case of emergencies. It is of course probable/possible that the dealer will make an offer that is so low it shocks me into keeping it, or even worse, buying a newer model.

Down in the valley an unusual sight. The farmer has left the irrigation system on and overnight the water on the apple trees has frozen. We're greeted by the sight of long icicles twinkling in the bright sunshine. Sophie finds the sight of the sprinklers and the ice worthy of investigation. We stop and stand and stare.