Le coq qui brille

Heading towards the end of the holidays and into a month of May the French describe as le mois d'Emmentaler - full of holes - pocked with bank holidays and arched with bridges joining a bank holiday to its nearest weekend.  No complaints there then...

The days are spent wheeling a sleepy Bobby round various cafés and back to his room, wondering where Lizzie is (she's abandoned the mobile phone I got for her) but can often be found crossing the Place in her straw hat.  A kind of Josette double. 

Bobby looks quite polished but thinks I'm Brigitte Bardot and has taken to talking in a quiet, gurgling way which makes me worry about the state of his lungs. 

My own concert- broken voice is now mended and a few days of going to bed with a book before dusk has restored body and soul to a state that should be able to deal with classes next week.

Everything is Ireland green and scent heavy.  The branches of the Acacias and the chestnut trees are low over the canal.

We live to see another beautiful Spring.