There is an old joke about Americans touring Europe which goes "It this is Tuesday, this must be Paris". No, I have never thought it very funny either. In fact, I don't think it at all funny, not even amusing, although I have met the stereotype American tourist who "did" England in a day with one more day for London. Not that the foregoing has anything whatsoever to do with today being Thursday. I just threw it in as a sort of make-weight, rather like those little chocolate thingies one sometimes finds being used to bring the weight of the box of chocs up to the correct level.
Talking of chocolates, there was a frantic ringing of the door bell this morning followed by a furious rattling of the letter-box. I was only just out of the shower at the time but I found a dressing gown and made my way downstairs, by which time whoever had been trying to attract my attention had disappeared. It turned out to be a postman attempting to deliver a box which he had decided to hide round the back. He said he didn't like taking flowers back to the depot. Flowers? Yes, addressed to the Old Bat. They were from our daughter with belated (two weeks belated) greetings for our wedding anniversary. And there was a small box of chocolates with the roses and freesias.
Now, where were we? Paris? No - it's Thursday. Already. This week is turning out to be a manic period with meetings, shopping errands, a lunch date with friends, a massage, minutes of meetings to be written and fireworks posters to deal with. But I suppose it stops me getting bored.
Back in Pouancé, which is really quite a scruffy little place on the whole, there is this little alley-way/yard quite close to the town hall.