Tuesday, 18 February 2014


When last we checked, the boots were taking the sun on the west balcony of the Hawthornden House near Edinburgh. Four years ago.
This morning, in Quillan, France, the bed was barely long enough.

The boots threw open the shutters

and did their morning flexercises, as usual.

Straight into the shower after that.

All fresh and clean, they poured a cup of tea.

Next, duties of the day: step out to mail a couple of postcards.

Not too busy at the post office.

How pleasing to sit at the square and watch the village go by.

Why not dip a toe into the Riviere Aude.

Or just sit back and watch.

A spot of sunbathing seemed right on a day like this.

At one point they had to go back for the book.

Feed the ducks, why don't we.

Look, graffiti!

They decided to take the steep walk up to the chateau.

Once they got up there, they couldn't get out.

In the end, some bugger walked off with them.


Brenda Schmidt said...

What a bootiful story!

Tracy said...

Ah, les bottes avec le mind of their own!

Gerald Hill said...

Yes, and last night they boot supper.

Emmaline said...

baaa hahaha!