It goes on .

A case of New Zealand Cloudy Bay Chardonnay proved to be just the right thing for the early morning barbecue . The local farmers expressed amazement that New Zealand produced wine . They then grudgingly admitted that it was 'quite good '. Strong praise indeed for a product that isn't French .

The village hall was full to bursting but the mayor had saved a space for us on the floor right at the front by the wide screen television . So there we sat. Wilf with his chin on my lap. Me, cross legged, with a barely cooked hamburger in one hand and a glass of Chardonnay in the other . I was worried that the lusty singing of the French national anthem might worry the family fellow but he slept through it all . Every so often his nose would twitch in the vain hope that another hamburger was on its way .

This morning the skies are cloudless and blue but the Autan wind is blowing . In Scotland a 70 kilometre an hour wind would be considered inconsequential. Here weather warnings are being broadcast on the radio. Wilf loves the wind. There must be something in a sheepdogs DNA that responds to it . He managed another kilometre walk this morning . Quite something for an arthritic old chap . He has that determined sense of purpose to him that says : " I can summarize everything I've learnt about life in three words - It goes on ".