Sparks, cinders and pots. The village Vesuvius.

Out for an early morning walk with Wilf through the sunflower fields. For the second day in a row the chattering gaggle of pheasant and quail chicks streamed across the road directly in front of us - a scene of unbridled innocence. Wilf looked up when he heard the noise then reassumed his sniffing. A dog at peace with himself is a perfect companion.

THE great day has arrived. After another night of punch fuelled preparation by the villagers the brick kiln Vesuvius is all set for its great lunch time unveiling . It's cloudy this morning and I really hope the weather stays fine. Our sixty-five village neighbours have really put their hearts and souls into making this a joyous event.

While 'the font' dealt with a constant stream of visitors of the 'could we borrow some cream ?', 'do you have any more baking trays?' variety , yours truly and the gannets were despatched to the supermarket with a list of essentials. Top of the list was champagne - the secret ingredient in turning a chore into a pleasure. Then off to the fruit counter for peaches so that we could make bellinis. I have the feeling that the day will end up with villagers and potters encamped on our lawn in search of a glass or two of effervescent nectar. Wilf of course can be expected to work the crowds in search of sloppy eaters.