Preuilly sur Claise is a quiet town most of the time.
Our usual soundtrack is the clucking of chickens, the calling of small wild birds, and the clatter of a self propelled sewing machine making its way through Place des Halles. On Sundays we hear the hound packs getting excited, and if the wind is blowing in the right direction we can hear the bells of l'Abbaye.
Occasionally though, this bucolic idyll is broken by the sound of training jets from Tours. It doesn't last for long, but it does provide a moment of excitement. If I am quick, it also provides an opportunity for me to be artistic.