In the afternoon the garden umbrellas are brought out of storage. No sooner have they been put up than a strong umbrella shredding wind springs up . Bob is very interested in what's going on. He christens each umbrella stand. Some are christened three times, others twice and those on the terrace once. There is presumably some canine rationale behind this. He wears his serious face.
The Old Farmer has bought a trailer. One of those two wheel, ex-Army surplus trailers with a canvas cover. He informs me that he can fill it with food for his journey to Belarus to tend his fathers grave. '' I'll fill it with vodka for the return journey " he adds.
Sophie barks at passing pilgrims. They laugh. Thankfully, she knows that when everything gets too much she can hold onto her big brothers paw and have a nap. He can be savaged later.
It's actually day 756 for Bob and Sophie. How I wish we'd bought this door mat.