It's the Christmas market in the village and quel embarrassment. The sky is blue, the choir is singing and I'm standing outside the bar tabac chatting to a friend when the peace of this timeless scene is shattered by Biff barking very loudly and ferociously.
I turn around to look at the cause of this uncharacteristic behaviour and see that it is a man wearing a red suit and fake white beard. Fortunately, the villagers and stall holders find it very amusing. Everyone is laughing and I realise that rather than 'l'anglaise with the little black dog' I will probably be known henceforward as 'l'anglaise with the little black dog who tried to attack Father Christmas.' (Secretly however, I am impressed by my little dog's ability to spot a fake at ten paces!)
In the English bookshop, which is packed out with people who have driven from as far away as Angouleme to pick up their Christmas cakes, I bump into my friend Martine the maire, and tell her about the stand-off with Père Noel.
'I am not surprised by this,' she says, before heading off to distribute Christmas presents - this year it's half a bottle of champagne - to the elderly residents of her commune. 'Biff probably did not like it that this other man was the centre of attention.'
Two years ago I hung up my high heels, put the Prada handbags into storage and left behind my fashionable West London life to renovate an old village house in rural France. Et voila. This blog is about what happened next....
I agree that you have a clever dog here. It's a good thing that he wasn't expressing his views about the choir -- that could have been unpleasant. Perhaps the man in the red coat was someone that Biff recognised.
As always, I am very pleased to read you, and wish you a lovely Christmas. Are we likely to learn about Portuguese Christmas traditions?