The thespians fascinator.

Wilf was on exceptionally good form. He barked, once, at our lunch visitors and then settled down under the dining table for a protracted nap. As our thespian guest held forth on the popularity of the Kings Speech and ' darling Colin and darling Helena ' , Wilf briefly re-emerged with an angelic look on his face. That good old ' I'm an orphan dog that's never been fed - ever ' routine. Amid much laugher it was agreed that his acting skills were as good as any at the table and were certainly worthy of an Oscar. He was rewarded with some cold roast salmon.

What to wear for the royal wedding ? A problem that is weighing on the grande old dame. She apparently has to wear a ' fascinator '. This it transpires is one of those bizarre , gravity defying, feather and lace, pill box style hats that are only seen at court functions or Royal Ascot. Where to get one made ? A trip to Paris the only solution. The things one learns in deepest France profonde.

' The font ' spent twenty minutes yesterday morning laying a trail of vanilla essence across the old floor tiles. This scented path runs out of the kitchen, through the den, out into the corridor, down the stairs, across the hallway, through the front doors and into the garden. Wilf can follow this olfactory map without bumping into the furniture. A big improvement all round and much needed relief for that big black nose. Now all we have to do is find a way of preventing him from stepping on bees or wandering into nettles.