One of those wet days when there is always a damp dog under your feet.
Madame Bay arrives, settles in the kitchen with a large cup of coffee, then starts reminiscing about village sixty years ago. " I was a mere girl then ". The fact that Madame Bay was well into her twenties sixty years ago is politely overlooked. '' There were forty in the church choir . We'd be tipped after weddings but were expected to sing for nothing at funerals ".
In the rare gaps in the downpour Bob takes up position on his stump seat. He barks at the Post Lady, the Old Farmer ( who is pumping up the tyres on his venerable Ford Transit motor home ) and the mayors secretary. They all wave at him. Somehow the fact they wave reinforces Bobs view that he is the worlds most ferocious guard dog.
have combined to create the ultimate bad hair day. Not that this bothers her.