The Old Farmer has been away with his lady friend for a full week. We can only assume that things are going well. His post box is full. 'The Font' will call and offer to take over the bills if he's not planning on coming back this week.
Bob and Sophie start their day on hyper alert. They can smell the presence of C-A-T-S but can't see the interlopers standing on top of the wall staring down at them. One of the interlopers appears to be quite fearless, the other seven members of the litter less so.
At the bakers a rather fine fraisier attracts our attention.
The farmer with the green metallic Toyota Land Cruiser has returned from his holidays. He waves
at us as we're walking back from the storm drain. I wave back. The Westie throws itself against the back window in fury when it sees the PONs. The two tykes and their sister still haven't returned from visiting their grandparents. What lovely, long suffering people they must be. So starts a Monday morning in a small village in deepest, deepest France profonde.
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