Sophie looks presentable this morning. It's a good hair day.
Bobs chin still has tell tale signs of last nights yogurt.
Gaggles of pilgrims walking through the village this long holiday weekend. It rains heavily on Sunday morning but this doesn't deter them. You can tell the pilgrims; they all wear something red - a hat or a jacket. In this wet weather most of them are sporting transparent plastic tent shaped ponchos. Some have two walking sticks, other make do with an old fashioned staff. I like the pilgrims. There's something reassuring about the presence of folk who've slammed on life's brakes and taken three or four days to walk along country lanes. The pilgrims rarely journey alone. They congregate in groups. Some laugh, some walk side by side in silence but most are engaged in quiet conversation. It's as if they know that the nondescript stranger walking alongside has a life history so rich and fabulous and complex that no Hollywood script writer would ever believe it. There are wrens nesting in the laurel hedge who flit and flutter around the pilgrims as they pass. Some of the tiny birds land on the road and walk along beside them. They seem oblivious to danger. Is this a wren thing ? Robins also have something of this fearlessness about them.
Bob stands on his stump seat with Furry Fox in his mouth and watches. He's convinced he looks ferocious. Someone should tell the pilgrims who, oblivious to his ferocity, smile and wave. Pilgrims tend to be greeted with squeaks rather than barks - a canine response which is something of a mystery but which may tell us much about how dogs judge humans.
If I've understood this properly then cigarette use in the US is back to 1918 levels : https://ourworldindata.org/grapher/sales-of-cigarettes-per-adult-per-day
The last man who knew everything : https://theweek.com/articles/763465/last-man-who-knew-everything