On our first walk of the day, Wilf and Digby followed their noses left out of the gates, past the speed bump, and into the village. Our itinerary was exhaustive, taking in all the major sights - the church, the war memorial, the chateau, the large 'Madonna' on its plinth in the centre of the village green, and the five houses that together form our little community. We also stopped off at each of the ten street lights and the telephone box before re-emerging into open country on the other side of 'town'. Digby had a stressful moment - he was deep in thought , following a scent, when he happened to look up and find a very large cow leaning over the hedge looking at him. You've never seen a dog levitate and move back three yards so quickly. Valour is not a virtue Digby holds dear.
We've now been in the house for a month and the list of things to do seems to be growing ever longer. The old heating boiler guzzles oil as if it's going out of fashion, the lighting seems to have a mind of its own, and the hot water system has been set to produce super heated steam. This morning on our way back from the walk I noticed that the gutters were not only full of leaves but that one of the downpipes had become clogged and burst. Faced with a rather larger than planned system of renovations , both 'the font' and I are quickly becoming fluent in the French for such technical terms as wood fired stove, cistern, fuse box and water main. The plumber and electrician are rapidly becoming close friends. None of this of course bothers the two boyz who have discovered that the polished floor tiles in the upper hall make an excellent skating rink.