The painter , who had promised faithfully to start work on Monday , hasn't shown up . As a result the rickety old farmhouse still has twenty three green shutters and one, small , grey one . Time for Angus to demonstrate that he can turn his hand to any trade. No sooner had the undercoat been painstakingly applied to the garage doors than the cloudless blue sky turned grey . Then black . Then jet black . As the lid was put back on the paint tin the first tentative drops of rain started to fall . Within five minutes it was a downpour . It continued all day ferociously and without let up . The thunder echoing off the mountain peaks . A large branch crashing down from the plane tree onto the swimming pool cover under the weight of the water . " Not great painting weather ? " asked Wilf as his drenched and bedraggled owner put the last of the ladders away.
Our morning had started with an unscheduled break of dawn ' granny font ' trip back to Britain . No time to prepare ' pop it in the oven ' meals for Wilf and yours truly. Faced with the possibility of having to either starve or eat Swedish raw fish the family fellow and yours truly make a quick detour to the supermarket for bacon and sausages . A dish that lends itself to Angus's particular culinary skills and is much approved of by Wilf . The bacon easy to find but the sausages hidden down a side aisle in a freezer cabinet . " Is there usually this much smoke in the kitchen ?" asks a small white polar bear as lunch is prepared . Every PON knows that humour is to life what shock absorbers are to cars .