Corridor at the end of the day

We decamped to Polfages to animal sit.  

Rufus and Bernie followed me up the farm track and back home via the village; Rufus arthritically and Bernie bouncily.  Carmen didn't even bother because she's so fat.

Charlie rang while I was walking and said he was sitting outside the Moulin and wanted someone to come out and play with.  

He turned up, along with the rain, bearing a bottle of good red, a packet of fags and news of his latest love mistake; a Militaire who was uncultured and had a problem with Charlie drinking rosé.  It was the usual autumn lament;  Charlie finds men easily on the Mediterranean beaches where he spends his summers, but they never get as far as Christmas.  I don't even bother asking their names.

Nico fired up the wood burner and a fierce wind blew the smoke around above the house.  It was like the old Lafage days, the banshees at the door and Charlie laying his luckless love cards on the kitchen table over a bottle of wine.