Too truthfully ?

Ninety degrees. Once again the south west of France is the hottest place in Europe. Faced with this unseasonable heat Wilf spends much of his day dozing in the shade of the hallway. A carefully chosen spot astride the front door. Sheepdogs are not fools. This cool, dark, vantage point, swathed in the rich vanilla scent of wisteria, is perfect for keeping watch over the comings and goings of his flock. From time to time a brief venture out onto the long grass under the medlars for a Ryvita and a tickle.

In the afternoon the family fellow supervised the painting of the Swedish furniture. 'The font' was delighted with the 'distressed' look that I'd achieved. " How did you manage it ?". ' Oh, it just came naturally ' I replied, perhaps a little too thruthfully.

A grande old dame of the English stage due for lunch today. She has a summer house nearby and comes to deepest France Profonde to enjoy anonimity and cheap ( and plentiful ) champagne. Much activity this morning in readiness. The lawn mower rasping away, hosepipes watering the parched flower beds, the kitchen a hive of hyper activity, champagne glasses being washed and polished. An all hands to the deck type morning. Wilf is strategically positioned in the kitchen hoping that things will fall on the floor. " Let your hook always be cast. In the stream where you least expect it there will be fish ".