The old farmer owns a number of houses in the village. One of them, next door to the newsagent, must be at least six hundred years old. It sports a marvellous medieval 'ogee' arch above the street entrance. 'The font' wondered out loud if we should buy it as a holiday rental property. Considering the glacial progress on the rickety old farmhouse this sudden enthusiasm for a property portfolio took me by surprise. One look at the holes in the roof and the gaps where the windows should be told me that we might get it finished by the end of the century. There again with our motley cast of builders, electricians plumbers etc maybe not.
Wilf never ceases to amaze. Last night he sat in the orchard carefully and delicately eating a peach that had fallen from a tree. He picked it up in his teeth, carefully positioned it between his paws, took a bite, chewed the flesh for a while then spat out the skin. The process was repeated until only the stone was left. We wait to see what effect the peach will have on his digestive system.