Washing

Our washing machine has broken down, which means I have to go to Lizzie and Bobby's  late morning after our walk.  I put it on a 15 minute cycle which gives me the time to have a glass of wine with them, sitting in the shade of the summer jasmine while they sit like lizards in the sun. 
Back at the moulin it dries in half an hour with the vent d'Autan still blowing all the way from the sea. The coast will be being battered by the Tramontane, its sister wind.  Tradition goes that if the Autan blows for more than 1O days a man can murder his wife with impunity.
Bernie Sanders has got it in his tail and has behaved badly all day.