Cardiovascular workouts .

The lady who drives the little market towns ambulance also doubles up as the local taxi driver . She comes to collect me at the airport. I ask her what would happen if there was an emergency while she was away . '' Oh, that's no problem . My daughter works the radio so she could drive the ambulance. She's got the keys " . Prior to this she had just proudly told me her daughter was seven months pregnant .

On our wayback Madame Bunelle is evidently still in ambulance mode . The little Renault weaving and darting through the Toulouse rush hour traffic oblivious to white lines, speed limits and roundabouts . Things become even more enervating when we get out into open country. Cars, trucks, buses all overtaken with a style that requires the taxi to get as close as possible to the vehicle in front before suddenly whipping out blindly into the face of oncoming traffic. By the time we draw up at the rickety old farmhouse yours truly has had several full cardiovascular workouts .

Angus has bought a little oil painting of three chairs at a gallery in London . Done by an aristocratic Victorian woman who suffered from such deep depression that she was unable to leave her house for months at a time. To cope she painted the every day objects around the house. When she died the attic was found to contain scores of her works - none ever shown or exhibited. Her husband blind to her talent . Every picture tells a story but not necessarily the most obvious one . A hundred years later her brilliance at last recognized . How much of her work has disappeared ?

Home as the sun is setting . Wilf is tired . He stands up to greet me but after a lick from him and a tickle from me he's soon asleep . I look at him and for the first time see an old dog . A very old and very tired and very loved family dog .