At last the day of the great unveiling . By six o'clock the square in front of the church was filling with parked cars as the great and the good arrived for the inauguration of the pottery kiln. On the dot of six thirty the mayor, a rather smart lady with auburn hair, and a man in jeans and a blue suit jacket emerged from the town hall. A few words of greeting from the balcony and the assembled crowd was led across the green, down the lane and past the frogs sunbathing in the village pond to the site of the ceremony. The original plan had been to fire up the kiln but at the last moment someone had decided to enclose it in a wood and tile canopy as protection from the elements. This was fine as ideas go but rather impractical if you want the smoke from the furnace to blow away and prevent anyone close by from being asphxyiated. So, in finest French tradition speeches invoking 'patrimonie' were made, a ribbon cut, and the multitude sauntered back to the village hall for a glass of Madame Bays industrial strength armagnac punch. The firing will be rescheduled for two weeks time after a quick redesign and a hole has been cut in the canopy roof.
Digby had a great day yesterday. He was bright and taking notice of what was happening around him. From his bed at the front door he even managed to growl at the post lady - a really positive sign that had us, and the post lady, laughing out loud . The night was not so good. This foul disease works away tirelessly. Again this morning we've been reminded that we can't change the destination. All we can do is make sure that the journey is as comfortable and dignified as possible.