"You do it love".

Angus is up early. A full hour early. The barn owls have decided to sit on the bedroom window ledge to welcome in the new day. Bob, who usually exudes enthusiasm, is still asleep. The hooting owls don't bother him.

At 6.15 Sophie deigns to join us . She adopts her " do you know what time it is ? " look. A quick dash round the garden in pursuit of blackbirds and then they're loaded into the car. The cafe under the arcades isn't open when we get there so no illicit half croissant this morning. This breech of the daily routine is not well received.

The builders cut holes in the ceilings to install new lights. The dust falls on Aude's freshly painted walls. Aude complains. The builders come down from the attic and mutter. They smoke a cigarette in the flower beds then disappear for lunch at 11.00 am. They don't return for four hours. The builders replace the broken glass in the windows. There is a disagreement over who should paint the window frame. Their '' you're a painter love. You do it " versus Aude's 'you're the idiots that broke it. You do it ' schools of thought. The window remains unpainted.

Out with Bob for an afternoon walk. The Very Old Farmer calls to us from the graveyard. He's wandered over to have a chat with his wife. He used to do it every day. Now he does it when spirit and body are in sync. Twice, maybe, three times a week. There's a chill wind blowing in from the Atlantic and after sitting for an hour on the cold granite he's lost the feeling in his limbs. We lift him up and walk him slowly back to his front door. Bob leads the way.

One of those days too uneventful for a diary but too important to go completely unrecorded.