A morning spent on the phone to men in dark suits. Mr. Kushners two-state plan for resolving the Israeli-Palestinian dispute is due to be announced at the end of June. Angus suggests some delay may be anticipated. Bob listens as I talk, puts his head on my foot and falls asleep. Sophie prowls the house in search of yogurt pots.
There is progress in Scotland. Parcels are delivered. There is only one breakage - a small table. Mid-morning we discover the replacement sofa is stranded in Malmo. The department store in Stockholm is called. It's pointed out that it's now more than six months since the order was placed. '' You could make a baby in that time " says 'The Font' employing a piece of Swedish logic that might have gained , or lost, something in translation. It seems to work. The sofa will be shipped from Malmo to Goteborg today for delivery on Friday. A miracle if it happens
The television aerial men arrive. They are what 'The Font' describes as a '' Cheery bunch". This doesn't auger well. They mistakenly take down our neighbours aerial and replace it with a new one. They only discover the mistake when the reception in the wee house is tested. There is none. The neighbour is delighted and offers to pay. '' My pictures absolutely perfect ". We can hardly expect an old retired academic lady to pay for our mistake. The aerial company are unhelpful.
The roses are looking battered by the weather. All of them are supposed to be pink but three have reverted to white. When I speak to the fancy English rose company about this they tell me '' You must be mistaken ". Angus could argue but having spent the last month talking to furniture companies he doesn't have the energy to open up another battleground.
Some strange alien things have started to sprout on the lawn. There are three of them. They certainly haven't been planted by us. Has the long wet spell woken them from dormancy ? I shall make sure Loic steers well clear of them when he drives the lawn tractor. They look exotic but could just as easily be a weed. They have that look that says they may grow into something really tall.
Wet weather means mud. Mud means mucky PON jaws. Sophie's beard is matted in a stylish Lenin like tuft.
Bobs nose and muzzle hint that there may have been some mole digging.
Across the generations we've always had one PON who sits alone listening to things that human ears can't hear and watching things no human eye can see. With this generation it's Sophie. She sits alone on the gravel , lost in thought, until the light fades and its time to come in. Two dogs , such different characters. Guess this makes Sophie a reflective PON.
Who knew making an airline map could be so difficult ?:https://somethingaboutmaps.wordpress.com/2018/05/15/on-airline-mapping/