Catch some z's.

A hot, sunny, near cloudless day. The PONs race down the hill towards the shade of the trees and the cool stream. Bob attempts to catch the young trout. In this he fails miserably but comically. He ends up soaked. His sister sits on the bank and glares at dragon flies and an audacious black, white and red woodpecker that taps away at the branches of an old oak. She occasionally emits a high pitched squeak of irritation. PONese for ' how dare that bird carry on working ? '.

Bob has dried out by the time we've made it back up the hill. He does however have that 'dragged through a hedge backwards ' look.

After breakfast there is time to catch a few z's on the wooden garden table.

Then there's a chance to catch a few more by the front door.

No Rickety Old Farmhouse is complete without a guardian sheepdog. A sign that all is well with the universe. 

There's something about the atmosphere of this house that tells me there's been many generations of dogs who've snored away contentedly on the front doorstep.

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The remaining American has fitted 'The Fonts' spare phone with an app that translates French into Russian, Polish and Latvian. The Old Farmer will take this with him to type in whatever commend he wants  - ' two beers please ' - and have it instantly translated onto the screen.  

The Old Farmer and the Belgian lady now plan to set off at 4 am on Sunday morning. There has been a delay with the insurance on the venerable Ford Transit motor home. The insurance certificate is due to arrive in today's lunchtime post.