Hard done by .

Chaos. ' The font ' heads off at dawn to Cahors to take the University French exam . Angus has to be in London to give a post-dinner talk to men in black . The drive is still blocked by the oak branch so a taxi is called to collect him at three thirty . Wilf has to be looked after by Madame Bay for an hour until ' the font ' gets home . In the middle of it all the plumber arrives to service the boiler .

A quick call from the airport before getting on the plane to make sure everything is ok. Wilf has settled in the kitchen and is giving his best : " Love was supposed to last forever , forever was shorter than I thought " routine . By the time he's shared some of ' the fonts ' filet de lotte et galette de riz croustillante he's feeling better . His hour clasped to the bosom of our chiffoned septaguenarian largely forgotten .

Slightly spooky .

First thing in the morning . The joiner shows up, unannounced , to repair the French doors onto the garden . It's so long since we called him that we've completely forgotten what we needed him for . He works for half an hour then disappears. " Just going to getting my soldering iron " . He returns late in the afternoon .

Evening walk with Wilf. On the village green the shooting gallery is still in place . Lights on, music playing , plastic ducks floating round and round and round. Apart from the two ladies cleaning out the village hall and the pigeons nesting on the church roof there is no one else around . I find this every so slightly spooky.

Woodpeckers and a Michael Jackson look alike.

The workmen have gone . Excess septic tanks filled in with sand , new storm drain laid and broken floor tiles replaced . They even cleared up afterwards. Miracles never cease. Wilf was given a farewell oat biscuit.

Late afternoon. Hot, cloudless and still. The hyperactive woodpecker family have done for another branch on the oak tree . It comes crashing down on top of the barn , scattering roof tiles everywhere. Miraculously, the branch misses the big car by inches leaving it completely untouched bar a thick coat of dust . It all happened twenty minutes after the builders had gone . This morning the first task will be to ask them to come back .

The new clock for the kitchen arrives from Harrods. '' The font '' looks at it and says ' how interesting ' .

For dinner avocat, lotte ; Tourte au poulet et aux salsifis followed by riz au lait onctueux aux pistaches . Wilf is very , very happy . Riz au lait onctueux aux pistaches a new PON favourite .

A very French night.

All things shall pass. Even voles. After an uncomfortable 48 hours Wilf and the dessicated rodent have finally gone their separate ways . Usually we would give him a food free 24 hours to let his stomach settle but with diabetes that's impossible . Today normal service has been resumed. The family fellow joins me for the croissant run into town . The beer and absinthe set at the cafe look up from their pre-breakfast card game and greet him with a hearty '' Bonjour Wilfee " .

Mid-Sunday morning . Monsieur Bozo's septic tank cleaning truck arrives . €179 to clear out two of the old fosse septiques that the builders uncovered last week . '' Sunday rates mate " says the driver / operator when I ask him how ten minutes work could cost so much . ' But you were supposed to come on Friday ' I reply. '' Take it up with the office mate " and with that and a shrug of the shoulders he goes .

Three accordionists sitting on the village green playing until gone midnight. We sit on the terrace, eating dinner and listening to the music . Pintade au Banyuls, poireaux grilles followed by poire rotie, sauce au vin et noix de pecan . Wilf lies asleep under the table his paw on my foot . Not a cloud in the sky . A very French night .

Behold a star !

Another warm, cloudless , start to the day .We always ask for four breakfast croissants but this morning we get given five . When I point out the mistake the lady behind the bakers cash till holds her forefinger to her lips and whispers " It's for Wilf ". Yours truly doesn't have the heart to tell her that the last thing Wilf needs after eating a vole is a full butter croissant .

The builders have found the foundations of another house under the gravel of the forecourt . '' What do you want us to do with it ? " asks the jovial foreman . Angus bites his tongue .

Saturday night. The village is holding an impromptu party to celebrate the French rugby teams victory over Wales. The total population of the commune is 67 but there must be at least three times that number spilling out of the village hall. All the components of a memorable night are in place . On the petanque court Monsieur Bay can be seen dancing with Madame Bay. He is waltzing, she appears to be doing something that requires a lot of arm movements. Around them the village pre-schoolers are creating havoc.

At one end of the salle des fetes the mayors wife is singing '' the answer my friend is blowing in the wind '' on the karaoke machine . At the other end a disco ball has been suspended from the ceiling and two heavy duty speakers are pulsing out hits from the 80's. Kelly the hover dog is settled in a corner by the kitchen as is Hugo the bad tempered Maltese. The Jack Russells, hurling themselves relentlessly out of the village hall windows, ignore them . Around the barbecue the farmers and their offspring are flipping burgers. Novelty rooster hats are much in evidence.

As we turn in for the night ' the font ' notices that it's as bright as day outside . The old farmer has switched on his 10,000 lightbulb Christmas star. Pilots on night flights into Toulouse airport will now have a much easier job .

Never dent the enthusiasm just redirect it .

Whatever it was had long curvy tail. Before I could shout out ' No ! ' the end of the tail was just disappearing down Wilfs throat. A look of unrepeatable jubilation on his face . Dessicated vole . For a dog, nothing, but nothing , like it . Wilf lies behind me on the kitchen floor as I make the coffee . Content with life and his lot. ' The font ' has been warned that there may be ' vole ' trouble ahead .

In the window of an antique shop in London earlier this week a nineteenth century dress . It's made out of the same original William Morris material that used to be batoned on the walls of the flat in Edinburgh . Now, apparently, very rare. The new owners of the flat ripped off the fabric, smashed the William de Morgan tiles and papered over the original Ashby wallpaper . A hundred years of history gone in a flash . If they knew the price of the dress they'd be having second thoughts.

Lava lamps. I phone ' the font ' to suggest that I bring one home . For some reason this idea is met with less than wild enthusiasm . '' We need a clock for the kitchen. Why don't you look for one ? " comes the reply . All those years of child psychology - never dent the enthusiam just redirect it - now directed towards Angus.

The salle des fetes a riot of red, white and blue flags for this mornings France-Wales rugby match . Amid the parked tractors and white vans a mobile 'throw the hoop over the ring' and ' shoot the duck ' stand . Seven thirty in the morning but there's already a queue of little farmers waiting to have a go. The Jack Russells are leaping in and out of the windows. Amid clouds of drifting smoke the big farmers are setting up the barbecue. Vole and the possibility of some underdone cheeseburger . What a way for an old PON to start his day .

It works.

For the princely sum of $5.90 we have another years access to Google .

This is the view of the rickety old farmhouse from the village green this morning . Mist ! Another sign that our Indian summer is drifting to a close.

After a difficult night Wilf managed a circumnavigation of the box hedge around the war memorial, visited the fire hydrant and is now sound asleep .