The cafe was humming. We had to circle the square twice before finding a parking space. It seems the good weather had brought out every van driver within a fifty kilometer radius. Every van driver that is with the exception of anyone or anything to do with work on the rickety old farmhouse. Sightings of our electrician or plumber are every bit as rare as confirmed sightings of the Loch Ness monster.
Never had a ' Bonjour Vilfeee ' from the peroxide haired waitress in the battery operated ' Bon Noel' apron with flashing lights sounded as good. Wilf settled into his vantage point in the corner of the cafe by the radiator and watched as I dutifully shook hands with the regulars . A bowl of water, a head tousling, and a piece of croissant. Normal service resumed. In the market square a man in a splendid chefs hat had set up a stall to sell freshly made doughnuts. Both Wilf and yours truly agreed that it was worth a detour. Another delicacy added to his list of favourite foods.
Home to find a turbaned Madame Bay waltzing along the corridor with the hoover, lip-synching badly to Julie Andrews singing ' I could have danced all night'. Wilf and yours truly shall be going to the vets later today for his fifteen day check-up.