Friday 27th May (Boiling an Egg)


Mr. Kite looked out of The Joint window onto a herd of Aubrac cattle feeding in the green meadows of the Auvergne. Now these lucky creatures did not have to walk about feeding but just sat on the green grass, lean forward and chew the cud.

Soon Mr. Kite and His Lady were sitting by the hot springs in Chaudes-Aigues watching an egg boil in the  steaming spring. This egg would not turn into an Auvernean Chicken enjoying the picking of the rich and fertile landscape but a lunch time sandwich to be eaten by a very attractive young lady. After a visit to the town and wash-house Mr. Kite and His Lady headed for le Belevedere where they parked The Joint on a terrace looking out down a valley.

In the warm sunshine and blue sky Red Kites, Honey Buzzards and Grey Heron flew around. In the late afternoon Mr. Kite went for a walk up a hill where he watched a family of Wrens flying from tree to tree supervised by noisy parents. One fledgling came and sat on a branch a few away from Mr. Kite and expected to be fed but soon realised Mr. Kite was not a meal ticket and flew away.

To celebrate another good day, and to quench his thirst, Mr. Kite returned to The Joint and had a tipple of Pelforth Blonde. Whilst enjoying his ice cold Pelforth Blonde Mr. Kite saw a Pelican. Some people would say that was because Mr. Kite had drunk too much and Pelicans do not live in France. There is some truth in both these remarks but this Pelican was on the label of the Pelforth Blonde bottle. So Mr. Kite would advise any in France wishing to see a Pelican to buy a bottle of Pelforth Blonde. Cheers from Mr. Kite who has lost count of the number of Pelicans he can see.