Saturday morning

We venture out after dinner to sit on the village green and watch , or in Wilfs case listen to , the pilgrims as they stroll through the village on their way to Spain . An old couple from Grenoble turn off the lane and wander over to him. The man strokes his head, the woman holds his paw. Their dog lasted four months with cancer . The woman kisses Wilf and says ' bon courage ' . Forget what you hear about the French being aloof . You cannot be alone in France if you have a dog .On our way home the fire hydrant christened in a peremptory way . Some routines must never change .

This morning is rugby morning , both France and Scotland playing .( Scotland are playing England - fellow Scots will understand what that means). By the time the sun has risen the parking area by the village hall is full . Young farmers and their offspring are sprawled on the grass in front of the war memorial. Around them a trail of identical Jack Russells walking backwards and forwards , into and then out of , the salle de fetes . Mischief in motion .

I can hear the Marseillaise being sung and shouts of ' allez les bleus '. Time for Wilf and yours truly to grab some champagne and head over to join everyone else .

Outlandish behaviour .

Audes dungaree wearing friend from the Womens Cooperative arrives in her van . Today she's wearing a t-shirt with the slogan ' Make mine a double ' in large red letters across the front . '' Cementing " she says by way of greeting . Madame Charm has brought with her one of the old Swedish dining chairs . Another member of the Cooperative has been recovering these with the silk I brought back from India . ' The font ' is happy with the result and gives the go ahead for the rest to be done .

After a year of defying the inevitable time seems to be catching up with Wilf. No pain . Just a gentle, slightly achy and arthritic drifting into old age . Rather like a walk into the mist . The warranty on liver and kidneys close to expiring . '' It happens to us all " says the nice young vet glancing in my direction . Wilf leans into me . '' While there's tread on the tyres and gas in the tank we'll carry on partying ". The vet, the receptionist, the senior vet and 'the font ' all laugh . Wilf beams . Outlandish old age beckons .

Experience teaches .

For Wilf a day spent sleeping . He rouses himself in the evening for half a bowl of freshly boiled broccoli enlivened with a little langoustine stock .

Some unexpected excitement at 3.30 am when the old fellow fails to return from his early morning pit stop . A torch wielding Angus , clad in dressing gown and a pair of Crocs, scours the garden only to find him peacefully curled up asleep in what's left of the peony border. Confusion over time and place becoming a more recurrent part of his daily routine .

A trip to the vets scheduled for later today . Experience of life with Wilf teaches us that all his symptoms will magically disappear the very second he arrives in the surgery . Guaranteed .

We shall see .

Bit of a rough day for Wilf. He falls asleep after breakfast and shows no interest in lunch . I can count on one hand the number of days he's missed lunch over the last ten years . ' The font ' coaxes him into trying a little smoked salmon in the evening before he falls asleep again . Did he eat too much pigeon guano on his morning walk or is this lethargy something more serious ? We shall see.

Rocking .

The weather forecast in the local newspaper blithely ignores the thick mist swirling like sea billows around us . For the next week it predicts blue skies and temperatures between 29 and 32 degrees . No mention of fog to be found.

En route to the cafe in the square we park in a side street full of 1920's style art deco houses . All boarded up . The French don't want to live in towns and the foreigners want elyssian farms in the country . As a result all these once fashionable little townhouses stand empty and forlorn .

Warm and still . A perfect night for sitting out under the stars with a Chicken Xacuti . ' The font ' comments on the fact that the recipe calls for no less than 10 dried red chillies . '' Do you think it's a misprint ? " I'm asked . To accompany it a Corsican wine . Neither of us can remember ever having drunk a Corsican wine before. Certainly the grape varieties - Niellucciu an Sciaccarellu - are a first . A perfect accompaniment to the hot and spicy Xacuti . Younger members of the family might say this ten chilly pepper delight was ' rocking ' .

The Cortisone has given Wilf a cast iron stomach. He has a small amount of rice and chicken with his evening kibbles . A quick game with a favoured toy then he falls asleep on the doorstep , snoring solidly until dawn . His attitude to food and to life : " If you wait , all that happens is that you get older ".

Time to have the heating checked .

Headlights on as we drive into town . A thick morning mist covering the ground and swirling through the trees . The church steeple rising dark above the arcades . The first sign of autumn . With its neon lit windows the newsagents a warming beacon of colour and light . The haar burns off by nine revealing another day of sun and blue skies . A reminder though that it's time to have the central heating boiler serviced .

Wilf positions himslf at the door of the kitchen . Scotland have lost to Argentina in the rugby , 13-12, so a day for an uplifting Sunday lunch . Salade de cou de canard farci au foie gras followed by Dos de cabillaud en crout de brebis, sauce au vin rouge . The old fellow ignores me completely , his attention focused entirely on ' the font ' and whether he'll get some flakes of cod with his lunchtime kibble . He does .

He also gets some sorbet au jurancon et ses madeleines as a treat . He smacks his lips enthusiastically in a way that says ' human food - can it get any better ? ' . Then a four hour post-lunch doze . The hectic life of an old PON.

Moody Cow Body Lotion .

To the scarecrow judging contest in a neighbouring village . A Madame Bay lookalike, La Reine du Menage, wins . Wilf enters into the spirit of things by carefully christening the feet of the winning entry . Thankfully , the farmers wife responsible is a dog person .

A large parcel of ungents for 'the font ' arrives from Libertys in London. Ordered on Friday, delivered on Saturday . Amid the revitalising face sprays, body oils, and assorted creams a free gift. Six bottles of ' balancing body lotion '. After carefully studying the label I ask ' the font ' if there had been some disagreement with the sales assistant . Wilf looks on as we roar with laughter . What a strange name for a product .