A wonderful time of the year. The days longer, the air softer, the nights balmier.
The mayor shows up at the gate. He's pruning the roses in the churchyard and has mislaid his secateurs. Could he borrow a pair ? There's no need for the mayor to ring the bell. The family diva's howls of greeting alert us to his presence. The mayor is sporting an overly large pair of pin striped trousers of the type that upmarket Edinburgh bank managers used to wear in the 1960's. They are held up by a length of blue twine tied at the front into an enormous bow.The formal impression is lessened by his white short sleeved shirt, red plaid hat and open toed sandals. Angus inwardly wonders whether we'll start to dress this bizarrely if we stay here long enough.
The Belgian lady drives up in her multi-coloured Citroen. She is wearing what at first glance one might take as a full length grey ball gown, a black three quarter length coat, royal blue sandals and a rather rakish red straw hat decorated with either small oranges or kumquats. It takes her some time to get out of the drivers seat as the hat brim keeps on hitting the door. In her arms she is carrying a tiny Yorkie puppy. '' This is Maverick Two " she informs me holding out the tiny thing in front of her. '' It's an American name " she adds .' What happened to Maverick one ? I inquire. She looks at me blankly.
The Old Farmer is due back next Tuesday. Will Angus be around to help him back up the stairs if he wants to go for a walk ?
Later in the morning Bob does something peculiar. He stands unmoving under a tree, sniffing the air. This takes the better part of half an hour. Clearly a dog thing that defies all attempts at analysis.
The builders, joiners and electricians started off enthusiastically. This joie de vivre has now ebbed. They promise to be back tomorrow to 'finish off'. This is an optimistic outlook on life as they've barely started.