Next week ?

After six days of adventures and misadventures the cheery gardeners finally go . They promise to come back ' soon ' to reseed the lawn where the burst water main washed away the grass . '' Next week ? " I ask hopefully . In return I get a Gallic shrug of the shoulders and a smile .

Upstairs , Aude , the decaratrice , continues to paint the bedroom walls. She may be finished by Friday . Before she goes for the day she has a long , overly technical , conversation with me about solvent based undercoats . My French is up to understanding maybe half of what she says . Something about wet plaster discolouring the lime render . I make occasional non-commital glottal noises to show I'm listening.

Wilf listens to the days comings and goings from his cosy spot by the front door . As old PON's know ' one way to get the most out of life is to treat it as an adventure '.

Before he heads off in his van the youngest of the gardeners surreptitiously gives the family fellow half a croissant . This is gratefully received .