We park down by the old mill. A sign pasted on the wall of the primary school says that there will be a 'flooding exercise' on Thursday afternoon at three. From the way the water is lapping at the quayside they'd better think of holding it as soon as possible. The woman at the lettuce stall isn't worried. '' Haven't had a flood here since 1923". She then pauses and adds somewhat mysteriously " Of course it all depends on what you call a flood ".
Sophie returns home to play frisbee with her brother. A game that goes on and on and on . Sophie is good at catching the frisbee, Bob less good. Looking at them reminds me that dogs are quarts of unadulterated happiness poured into pint pots.