Still it blows.

The Atlantic storm still blowing. Fallen branches dot the lawn. Energized by the gale the PONs are ready for the off. First they check the terrace for C-A-T-S that may have been sleeping there overnight. Then it's off into the orchard to run round and round the oak trees in search of squirrels.

The village children go back to school today after their mid-term break. As we head off down the lane the school bus passes us. The little ones press their noses against the bus windows and wave at the PONs. The two tikes are there but are glumly fixated on their mobile phones. Their teenage sister sits as far away from her brothers as possible and ignores them, the PONs and everyone else.

On our morning walk Bob and Angus stop by the storm drain and put the world to rights. The ground is wet after last nights storm. Bob sits. Angus stoops beside him. Bob's told, as he is every morning, that this is his home. Sophie, who doesn't need to be told this is her home, ferrets in the hedgerow for something, anything, edible .