Saturday, January 7, 2012
We should do this more often.
It usually takes forty five minutes , maybe an hour , to make our way home from the airport. Yesterday , ' the font ' takes a new route . '' It's much more direct ", I'm told with an air of absolute certainty. We turn off the main road and head into the countryside . Two hours and ten minutes later we have passed the grand total of three cars, one white van ( coming in the opposite direction ) eleven dogs ( of various types ) and , bizarrely, one dead cow propped up against the side of a barn. We're lost . I'd thought we lived in deepest France Profonde . Now , thanks to ' the font ' I know there are parts of France that are much more Profonde .
Every hour we stop so that Wilf can be lifted down from the back of the car to ' stretch his legs ' . Our canine companion is in seventh heaven. New scents, new textures, new hints that there's a whole world of dogs out there that he's still to meet . An enthusiastic ' we should do this more often ' look on his face.
Night time at the rickety old farmhouse. Christmas decorations and the last of the family gone. Now just the two of us and our faithful companion. Outside, the stars, the moon, and the old farmers five megawatt star glow peacefully in the sky. Wilf settles down by the front door for a long, long restorative sleep . Old PON's seem to have the simple certainty of knowing " there is no wealth but life ".