Chainsaw sounds .

Mixed signals . Yesterday Wilf didn't want to eat . Most unusual . Yet this morning he manages to walk beside me for nearly a kilometre . Not just ambling along , but forging ahead , leading the way with real boy dog enthusiasm . The fickleness of cancer . Finally he's had enough. He flops down in the cool grass at the side of the lane and within a minute is soundly asleep. Angus walks back to get the car . When I return Wilf is snoring . The sounds of France Profonde. Chattering finches, the rippling brook and a small white polar bear doing a passable impersonation of a chain saw.

Much activity by the pottery kiln. The wheelchair accessible picnic table is now firmly in place. Next to it a large hole has been dug . The purpose of this is yet to be revealed . Another street light ? A barbecue pit ? Time alone will tell . On either side of the kiln itself two small solar powered lights have suddenly appeared . The first stage towards our very own version of the Eiffel Tower illuminations .

A village committee meeting has been called for Saturday afternoon . The residents of the rickety old farmhouse have been invited . Perhaps, despite our northern oddities, we're becoming honorary French ? ' The font ' has made me promise not to tell anyone what I think about the idea of solar panels on the kiln roof.

For lunch today Tourte Saumon-Epinard . Wilf is already in the kitchen instructing ' the font ' .