Simply nothing .

Sunday morning . The fat, happy , bees at work on the wisteria by the front door. The hawthorns lining the road a solid ribbon of sun dappled blossom . Not a car to be seen . France Profonde at its best. Wilf back to normal today . He's at the foot of the stairs waiting for me . The man on the motability scooter shouts out ' Bonjour Mistah Veelfe ' as we arrive at the cafe. The waitress stoops down and takes his head in her hands . A long hair tousle . Half a croissant , broken into mouth sized pieces, gratefully received .

We head along the grass path that runs to the stream . A Kingfisher flits from a branch and lands by the water in front of us . A tiny rainbow of colour . Living Lapis Lazuli . I think it's going to drink but instead it spreads its wings and splashes its feathers. On the way home a young Black Winged Kite skims across the freshly ploughed field . A prince of the skies .Only 22 breeding pairs in the country. The first I've ever seen . It wheels and comes back , circling past us. A private display of dexterity given for nothing , simply nothing , other than joy .