Radium.

Bob and Sophie start their day enthusiastically and it sort of grows from there. They exude contentment like radium exudes energy. Bobs 24/7 waving tail and Sophie's gloriously wet nose objects of amazement to their owners. Today is a morning for hurtling into the lavender beds. This causes the butterflies to pirouette into the air. Priceless. 

We saunter across to the church, Bob in the lead, Sophie trailing behind. The man with the beret and the bad tempered Yorkie is installing a new grille in the porch. This allows passers by to see the frescoes while stopping anyone from stealing the statue of the village patron saint. The grille is excellent for looking through but it has a flaw. The village cats can squeeze under it and the pigeons from the bell tower can fly over it. 

Yesterdays rain has dislodged some tiles over the transept and a large damp patch stretches across the floor in front of the altar. '' I'll have to go up and sort it out " says the man with the beret, matter of factly. The evil Yorkie makes threatening noises at the non-plussed PONs. Sophie stands behind my legs with an alarmed ' Lordy ! Is that a growling rat ? ' look on her face. We wish beret man well and leave before Sophie tests out her hypothesis.

The builders are busy re-pointing the stone work on the side of the house. Sophie may be bewildered by the Yorkie's animosity but she has no hesitation when it comes to vetting the builders. She walks up and glares at them. They give her a piece of biscuit. Bob also gets a piece. The PONs then roll in the pile of sand by the cement mixer. Before he goes Bob christens it. He sports a serious '' You can never be too sure when it comes to dealing with sand " face.

So passes another day. The sort of events too small to be recorded in a diary but too interwoven with life to go totally overlooked. Dog owner days.