On the way back we have to slow right down to a snails pace to manouevre round Oliver , the old widows labrador. Today, he's moved from his usual position on the front door step and is dozing , unconcernedly, in the road. Ever since the old farmer died thirteen months ago he's sat outside , day in , day out, patiently waiting for his masters return. A dogs devotion . Untarnished, undoubting. As we pass the old fellow looks up hopefully to see if the car is going to stop. Seeing faith like that I can't help but smile and wish Oliver a ' good, Good Friday '.