"In beauty surpassing the Princes of Troy".

Woken this morning by the sound of rain hurling itself maniacally against the bedroom windows. Another of those wet, wet Pyrennean mountain squalls that suddenly arrive and just as quickly depart having deposited a weeks worth of rain in an hour. Wilf and Digby are inherently sensitive to the sound of the outside elements . The noise of the downpour had made them curl up together, legs and paws intertwined, in a deep, warm, shared , comfortable sleep. My calls to them to come and join me on the croissant run went unheeded - at the age of nine they have sensibly decided that comfort takes precedence over a trip in the rain.

By the time I returned from the village the boyz had repositioned themselves in the kitchen to observe the arrival of the croissants and the daily baguette. Priorities!

One of the things about travelling with Wilf and Digby is that their shaggy, mini-polar bear look attracts notice wherever they go. It was a beautiful day yesterday and I loaded the two boyz into the back of the car for a trip to the newsagent. We parked in the square, and set off for the shop , a soft toy held determinedly in each mouth, when an old lady in a feathered felt hat stopped in front of us. (Being stopped and commented on in the street is a common occurence for the boyz and they positively revel in the attention - you can almost seen Wilf preening himself in delight when being cooed at). Beaming from ear to ear, she suddenly put her hands together as if praying, and exclaimed softly and delightedly " What fine fellows - in beauty surpassing the Princes of Troy ".Driving back it struck me that only in France could your dogs be praised by reference to Homer's Illiad. Both classical and charming and entirely out of keeping. How delightfully errant that she could have thought the two matted , shaggy, playful monsters were like Princes .