Wilf biffs the swing.

What is going on with the weather ? On our morning walk at the light industrial zone it was a marrow chilling six degrees. Wilf comes pre-prepared for this cold weather but for those of us without a thick double layer fur coat it's decidedly bracing. Here we are in mid-May in the south of France and the heating system in the rickety old farmhouse has been turned on again.

The schedule had me heading back to London tonight to give a speech tomorrow . Overnight, the flights from Toulouse have been cancelled due to VFC - Volcano Flight Chaos. It didn't take them long to come up with an acronym for it - asign that it's going to become part of everyday life? . The way it now stands Wilf will be able to have my undivided attention all week. Avoiding a room full of serious men in dark suits and even darker ties is no loss. I know where I'd prefer to be.

Wilf still stands peering out through the gap in the front gate waiting for the family to be reunited. We'll just have to give the grieving time. Last night we played the 'biff the swing' game for the first time in nearly a month. I put a soft toy on the swing in the garden and he rushes over , ears trailing in the slip stream, and biffs it with his nose. The biff sends the swing flying, the soft toy falls off, Wilf retrieves it and so the game is repeated over, and over, and over. Rug surfing and now biff the swing. Slow progress. Slightly worrying is the way that he's developed his Colitis again - a sure sign that he's stressed.