baleine liberée

Today is the day, Julian informs me in his deliciously imperfect French as we emerge from a plum orchard into the shade of a walnut tree and sniff the walnutty smell of a new leaf, of the ‘Dauphin Libéré’. This cycle race is to the Tour de France what Eastbourne is to Wimbledon, and today they are going from Tian l’Hermitage all the way to the top of the Mont Ventoux, through our village. 186 kilometres in five hours. Gawd Blimey. The locals and a few Dutch tourists are already lining the roads excitedly but I have come home to go to my glade to hear the blackbird sing and to write, with a bag full of cherries someone picked and then thought ‘Actually I hate cherries’.

“So when is the Baleine Libérée coming by?” I ask. Oops. Interesting slip. If I joined them I guess I would be the liberated whale and not the liberated dolphin.

Hang on, the cherries have disappeared. Could someone be painting them...?