Been raining in Brittany . . . for several generations. Feels like that, anyway. Lovely sunny day today so we headed for the Monts d’Arrée. Crossed a peat bog. It got quite lively. Not nearly as many duckboards as I remembered. About halfway across, it occurred to me that it wasn’t necessarily a hugely clever idea, setting off to cross a bog after a prolonged period of heavy rain. In times past, evil spirits were exorcised by bunging a black dog in this bog. Our Labrador did his best, but eventually all three of us floundered ashore on the far side of the bog, only to find a ‘Danger!’ sign informing us that the bog was flooded and crossing it in this season was extremely inadvisable.
Looping back via the moorland, we met a man who really, really didn’t like dogs. This was unfortunate. With hideous inevitably, a dog who never pays a blind bit of notice to the people we pass on our walks decided it was a propitious moment to leap five feet in the air and kiss this bloke on the lips. He wasn’t pleased. I confess, it can’t have been pleasant. The dog had just been rolling in wild boar shit and there’d been the business with the bog earlier on. But even without these aggravating factors, I doubt he would have been delighted. He really didn’t like dogs.
I started dishing out the apologies, ‘Excusez moi’ and so forth. The reply was forthright. “Non! Vous n’êtes pas excusé.” I contemplated pointing out that the phrase was just a formula and I didn’t really expect him to give me absolution, but concluded this was an observation he could probably do without, all things considered.
Ah, the pleasures of living in a Catholic country.
I’m considering putting myself forward as a candidate for the papacy. As it happens, drape a towel across his head and the dog does a very passable impersonation of Mother Theresa. Now that would be a media friendly campaign, don’t you think?
N’ayez pas peur.
Causes Charles Davis Supports
Oxfam, Amnesty International, Greenpeace