Wilf and the peach.

The question over what colour to paint the shutters in the rickety old farmhouse has still not been resolved. After months of discussion we'd finally ordered and paid for a tasteful olive green (as in the bottom photo) but on yesterday mornings walk 'the font' decided it looked too military. An 'ok' colour in the summer but likely to be a tad sombre in the winter. A quick call back to the UK manufacturer and we were able to stop the shipment. A tester pack of eight small cans of various colours is on its way instead.

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.