One of those days when you're boiling one minute and chill the next . The sun scudding constantly in and out of the clouds . Wilf has recharged his batteries and is sitting by the front door waiting , patiently , for me to take him for a walk . Today , as a change , we head off across the sunflower fields to the river bank . An area teeming with moles, voles, egrets, water rats and heaven alone knows what other malodorous wildlife . He saunters along for a full half an hour , head down in the long grass , swathed in a reverie of intriguing scents, completely lost to time . Malodorous heaven . On our way home we stop off at the cafe facing the pilgrimage church . Angus gets a coffee, Wilf gets a bowl of water . The cafe owners two Yorkies glower at Wilf, silently but proprietorially, from behind the safety of their front door . Wilf ignores them .
Five to ten at night and the phone rings . It's the floral suited Australian lady who's renting the flat in London . ' Is it safe ? ' . The question catches me off guard . " Is what safe ? " . It seems the riots in London have filled our tenant with fear and dread and she's worried that our little corner of St.James's is going to turn into downtown Mogadishu . Reassurance liberally applied . This morning French Radio starts off its broadcast wih the headline " the whole of England in flames ". August - a time when news is scarce and all sense of proportion is tossed aside .
Wilf lies on the doorstep in the sun . Simply happy in that way that only dogs can be . An old Polish proverb comes to mind : '' Who does not thank for little will not thank for much " .
