The flower shop next to the cafe is selling off its stock of post 'la toutsaint' chrysanthemums . A carpet of yellow, white and orange blooms had spilled out of the front door and was covering half the pavement. Wilf looked out inquisitvely from under the table and had to be told in no uncertain terms that these pots were not suitable objects for christening.
Onto the bakers for this evenings desert . Maybe a rum baba to go with the saute de boeuf minute aux truffes ? Wilf seemed to think this was an excellent choice. Then off to the office of the realtor handling the old fifteenth century pilgrims hostel. I laughed when I heard the price they want, " do they think it's on the Champs Elysees ? " . He agreed that the price was 'full' but clearly didn't know which was odder - the two old dears with elevated expectations or this strange foreigner who brings a white, fluffy dog with an enormous black nose to meetings.
Another long walk in the afternoon along the stretch of old roman road. As we approached the little lake at the end of the brook Wilf settled down into the grass and lay stock still for ten full minutes watching the herons and cormorants take wing. We were promised three days and we're now entering our fourth week. The shock and sadness have gone to be replaced by an appreciation of each additional and unexpected day. This afternoon we're off to the specialist to talk about his medication.