Never stop exploring.

Up here on the ridge a third morning of thick, wet, impenetrable fog . A real pea souper . What east coast Scots would recognize as a haar .

Our morning routine . Croissants and baguette from the baker , coffee and bowl of water at the cafe . A trill of ' Bonjour Wilfee's ' from the early morning beer and absinthe brigade . The waitress laughs as she slips Wilf an illicit , and now routine , treat . I look down to see two paws, the tip of one large black nose and the illicit half croissant poking out from under the tablecloth .

On our way home there's time for a quick walk down by the stream . The sky brighter down here in the valley. The young calves and their mothers slowly wander over from the far side of the field to see us. They stand and stare . The young males inquisitive and hoping for food . Wilf ploughs along the verges , nose down , completely oblivious to his gathering audience . Old PONs never stop exploring .