The intervention .

Nine in the morning . The first pilgrim of the season walks briskly through the village . With his long beard and wooden staff he's a dead ringer for Charlton Heston in the Ten Commandments . This Old Testament image at odds with his jeans , walking boots and red kagool. Wilf barks at him , twice. The pilgrim waves .

Mid afternoon . A man in a day-glo yellow safety jacket arrives at the gate . He's come in a little white van with orange flashing lights on the top. Some acronym that means something to the French , but means absolutely nothing to foreigners , painted on the side . A vaguely official air about him . '' I'm sorry I'm late . I had an unexpected intervention " he says , by way of introduction . Angus is still trying to work out what this means when he suddenly announces " Oop La. Wrong address ". With that he goes. Angus is left wondering about the intervention . Wilf wakes briefly , barks , then falls asleep again.

At the cafe under the arcades a ' dog bar ' has been installed. Wilf , being a regular customer, still gets his water bowl filled and placed in front of him . The new medication is working wonders but he's still not in the mood for an early morning croissant . Maybe tomorrow. We have a long walk in the sun on our way home from the bakers. Our hectic life in deepest France Profonde .