Out with Wilf for our morning constitutional through the village and along the lane. Another sunny but windy day in this little corner of paradise. As we pass the gates of the chateau we're greeted by three high pitched barks and the sudden appearance of a furry, ginger and highly proprietorial dog. From the long line of large black Mercedes parked along the drive and spilling out onto the road I'm guessing that the German billionaires have arrived for the Easter holidays bringing their dog with them.
Old blind Wilf ploughs stolidly on quite unaware of the furry, ginger beast following him . He takes time to mark the chateau wall and push the wrought iron gates with his nose. This leisurely audacity drives the chateau dog insane. She darts backwards and forwards challenging Wilf to look her in the eyes. What he stops to christen, she stops to christen immediately afterwards. I manage to grab two quick snapshots of her. She's a sweet thing that looks like a cross between a wheaten terrier and a PON but is probably a very rare and very expensive breed. The thought of German-Polish reconciliation and taupe coloured puppies springs inadvertently into my mind. Within thirty seconds the encounter is over and Brunhilde ( as I've decided to call her ) has rushed back up the driveway to the safety of the barbican. She might be an uptown girl but this morning our downtown boy was quite oblivious to her charms. Having said that he returned home with a look on his face that said ' I'm a charmer '.