A poem remembered.

Excitement . Just before lunch a van draws up outside the gates . The whistling workmans come to give the warning triangles on the speed bump their once a year makeover. He paints one side before lunch , then carefully lays out traffic cones to protect his work . First stage completed he drives off to the village green where he gets out , sprawls on the grass, and enjoys an hour and a halfs nap in the shade. Suitably refreshed he returns , removes the cones , paints the other side of the speed bump, lays out the cones again and then drives thirty yards back to the green for the second half of his nap . An hour and a half later , paint dry, cones collected, he finally goes . Efficiency , Tarn-et-Garonne style. From time to time Wilf, who finds the whistling irritating, deigns to bark at him .

Six thirty at night . A group of a dozen or so red shirted pilgrims wander along the lane . They see 'the font' working in the garden and ask if they can fill up their water bottles . Nice , ordinary folk from Munich taking three weeks to walk as much of the route towards Santiago di Compostela as they can . Due to the unexpected guests Wilf gets his insulin injection from 'the font ' later than usual . I feed him earlier than usual . Our well practised family routine thrown twenty minutes out of kilter . Result ? A really bad night for the family fellows diabetes .

This morning Angus is feeling decidedly sleep deprived but Wilfs tail is wagging . He's happy . Dogs seem to have read, and remembered , that ever grateful Emerson line that goes : " For each new morning with its light, For rest and shelter of the night , For health and food , for love and friends , For everything thy goodness sends ". The irrepresible gratitude of our four legged companions . Today , Angus and Wilf will be having an extended post lunch siesta .