Hot sunny day, rudely interrupted by a thunderstorm late afternoon
Start of my lazy weekend. I would have liked it to have been really lazy, but with Paul being here during my normal work hours I thought a little bit of weekend work wouldn’t kill me. I tested this theory out briefly with a bit of tiling in the bathroom and I definitely was still alive so I thought I might get away with other work. I finished the kitchen worktop tiling and all the other fiddly little bits that nobody ever notices but even so take 100 hours longer to do than the major construction bits.
Went for a quick internet shop in the afternoon, as I had been neglecting my public for quite some time now. Managed to get in and out with quite a few personal emails being used within the 4 euro threshold so felt particularly smug at all the prep I’d done on my laptop beforehand. It would have only been 3 euros, but I’m having to read the Formula One reports on the internet a little more thoroughly than usual due to the amazing exploits of Lewis Hamilton in his first year and beating the lot of them. Typical! This is the first year I haven’t watched any F1 races and look what happens – a Brit is the running!
Went for a bike ride in the evening sun. Wanted to find a quicker route to the telephone kiosk at the village hall – or rather one that didn’t involve so much up and down and up and down. My conclusion is that I don’t think there is one. As usual though, I did manage to stir a few dogs en-route – those that sit outside their master’s house and just wait to bark at anything that passes.
Paul & I noticed this last week. Almost every remote farmhouse seems to have a bad-tempered dog waiting to bark at you as you pass. Paul’s particularly susceptible to it apparently, and I think this stems from the fact that he’s been bitten a few times (by small snappy-type dogs), and so he’s wary of dogs in general. They don’t bother me – as such – but Paul got barked at and chased by loads more dogs than I normally do. My way of dealing with it is to turn to them and shout and threaten to kick their snappy little jaws back into their gullet. All of the dogs I’ve met so far seem to retreat when they have this type of threat hanging over them. (actually it’s not really a threat – I really would kick them if they got anywhere near me unless they showed remorse or friendship of course).
It’s amazing round here just how many people have dogs, and just how many dogs are loose and threatening. It’s almost impossible to walk around the block without some dog barking and charging towards you at some point. The only way to deal with them is to confront them I think – they are mostly very scared dogs by my reckoning. For example I have 3 neighbours and they have about 5 dogs between them. They all bark if you walk out on the driveway. They all bark at anything that passes ‘their’ house on foot, or on bike, r in car, or on rollerskate. They bark at children, for fuck’s sake! Of course their owner’s bark at them to back off most of the time, but this is strictly necessary because every passer-by (even the children) know that the dog’s are pathetic hounds that are scared of just about everything. My neighbour’s dog barks at me because I happen to go out to my van, but it won’t try and make friends with me. And when I run at it barking and waving my fist it runs away whimpering like all the dogs seem to do round here when you try to approach them. I’ve not met one yet that will let you approach it.
Expect for this evening when I was on my bike and I rode past a particular doggy spot where I usually get barked and charged at. Tonight, not much reaction though and I rode on for about a quarter of a mile to stop and admire the view and take in the peacefulness.
It was then that I could heat a quick thud-thud-thud sound on the road behind me. I didn’t know what to make of it at first (it was almost graceful like reindeer, or an antelope), but no – I turned to look and it was a vicious looking rottweiller from the farm that I had passed some minutes back. It had been running fast and seemed to be pursuing me, as if I was quarry, and at first I was worried.
But seeing as though I couldn’t really escape, and knowing that most of these dogs are cowards, I took a gamble and shouted at it “Hello Boy”, as if I was an old friend and was multi-lingual. I put my hand down to stroke it and – bizarrely – it let me stroke it. This is the first dog that’s let me get near enough to stroke in France and the first one that seems to have understood English.
The right time to find it, too.
