Thursday, April 26, 2012
A busy day for Wilf. Trips with ' the font ' to the picture framers, the curtain store and the fishmongers . The cheese lady lets him try a piece of particularly runny Camembert . Wilf licks his nose , does a little soft shoe shuffle and decides he must be in heaven .
Six o'clock . It stops raining . Blue sky briefly breaking into our monochrome world . A quick walk by the stream then Wilf and Angus head off to the rugby ground . The local team playing a group of farmers from somewhere near Toulouse . A late kick off. The visitors coach has taken the wrong turning off the motorway . While we wait Angus and Wilf share a hot dog from the stand in the car park . Angus wonders what could possibly have gone into the hot dog to give it such an unusual flavour . Wilf, by contrast , has that " Oh, the bliss of this glorious taste " look on his face .
The local team win 70-12. An outcome , in its own way, as unusual as the taste of the hotdog . Through it all Wilf snores contentedly , on his back , at my feet . Dreams of camembert and hot dog ? Maybe coconut ice cream ?