This morning Hattie and Joe, town mice through and through, made the life-changing discovery about cows and their involvement in the creation of ice cream. Near Pat and Richard’s house a local dairy farm makes its own ice cream and cheese, and sells it from the farm shop twice a week. We had to investigate.
Before choosing ice cream we checked out the production staff:
This was complicated slightly by the presence of the farm dog, who was ‘Hercules Morse, as big as a horse’ made flesh, and who introduced himself to the kids by coming up behind them, sniffing them all over, and licking Hattie on the ear. He was very gentle and friendly, but he was taller than the two of them, so they sensibly decided to visit the cows – pretty big themselves when viewed up close – from the sanctuary of Mummy and Daddy’s arms:
On the way home we stopped in the nearby commune of Gout-Rossignol (pronounced ‘goo ross-in-ol’) for coffee:
The cafe had it own dog, but it was much smaller and less alarming:
We paused for a family selfie:
And then we checked out the local church, which was predictably gorgeous and full of stained glass windows and beautiful statues. The churches are all so nice and small – they’d be lovely places to get married. My reverence of churches makes me loathe it when people take tourist photos of their interiors, though, so you’ll have to either take my word for it or come and visit yourself. Hattie and Joe posed on a handy bench for a photo with Nanna:
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