Cloudy and humid. For the angelic duo a day for sitting back, chasing blackbirds and imagining what it would be like to be invited to lunch with the Hungarian stonemasons. The smell of garlic laden sausage wafts, tantalisingly, through the village from the chateau.
Bob and Sophie practise their ferocious look on passing pilgrims . They don't quite get the hang of it. Squiffy will have to do. A couple from Bordeaux stop at the gate to chat. Bobs tail wags. He's hoping they're up for a game of ' throw the furry fox '. Sophie is having none of it . She gives them her ' if you don't have sausages don't bother me ' look.
One of those quiet days with dogs. Not important enough for a diary but important enough to be remembered, with a smile, here.