O for a life of sensations rather than of thoughts.

It's the rose hedge again. Bob the dog doesn't even wait until I've got my back turned before embarking on a programme of garden improvements. He bounds across the lawn, uproots a rose and comes wandering back, head high, rose between his jaws, before the words '' Bob ! No ! " have barely been uttered. 'The font' thinks there must be something alluringly organic in the potting compost. Fishmeal perhaps ?

The Rickety Old Farmhouse has many chimneys.  After much cajoling Angus finally gets round to dealing with the howling gales that blow down the flues into the guest bedrooms. He's ordered from London a marvellous product called a chimney balloon. You blow it up, wedge it into the chimney and hey presto the draughts are kept firmly in check. A simple and effective process. " Continue until the Balloon is gently firm, like prodding your thigh " say the instructions with a degree of eloquence unusual for such a humdrum product.