Acanthus .

It's getting hot . Time to open up the pool . ' The font ' can think of more exciting things to do with a morning than buy pool chemicals so Wilf and yours truly head into town bright and early on our own . Wilf likes the hardware store . It has a large yard full of malodorous nooks and crannies . On our way back we stop off at the cafe for a coffee, the mandatory bowl of water and a croissant . Even the beer and absinthe crowd are talking about the strange case of Monsieur Strauss-Kahn and his alleged rape of a chambermaid in a New York hotel room . The story broke yesterday morning and now has the whole of France in a frenzy .

The rickety old farmhouse has an equally ramshackle old garden . It doesn't have flower borders so much as great swathes of untamed wilderness . What people on those programmes about restoring old houses would describe as a ' long term project ' . Underneath the weeds , acanthus plants . Twenty seven of them uncovered yesterday . All growing happily away in the shade . In Scotland we planted acanthus, or bears breeches , as a feature . Here they seem to grow as weeds . What will happen to them now that they can enjoy sunlight remains to be seen .

Hourly pit stops with Wilf last night. I hope its just a bad batch of insulin rather than a sign of anything more serious with his liver . Not that he's bothered . He returns home to find Audes van in the driveway . His first priority ? Tyre christening .