The wrens are busily building their nests in the wisteria by the front door. For such small birds they are noisily argumentative. Their belief that the garden belongs to them drives Sophie mad. She sits and barks at these presumptive intruders . The wrens stick out their chests, warble and studiedly ignore her. I reckon there are six possibly seven wrens nests being built although the manic too and fro activity makes a firm number difficult to reach.
Bob is oblivious to the wrens. He just wants to get the day started and a curly croissant end - or two- under his belt. News that the North Koreans have gone back to their old trick of firing missiles into the 'Eastern' sea is dismissed as smoke and mirrors.
A fresh supply of dates arrives in the greengrocers. The Ramadan crowd swoop on them as though they're going out of fashion ( surely that should more correctly be coming into fashion ? ). Chickpeas and almonds are also in great demand.
Sophie would not be temperamentally well suited to this ( unless there were biscuits to be had ) :