The electrician is due today. We ask the office when he might arrive. 'Some time today' comes the reply. We ask if there's any chance of a more specific time. 'Probably around four but it might be before lunch ' . The receptionist says this with well practised imprecision. Not that it really matters. With cases running around 500,000 a day we are still in 'abundance of caution' mode and unlikely to stray far from the house.
Sophie's coat is at maximum shagginess. There's nothing like a tangled double coat for fending off the cold on these winter mornings.
The super smart Los Angeleans call while we're walking along the valley floor. They want to talk about Ukraine. It's eleven pm for them so they must be concerned. The consensus is that the US doesn't want to upset the Germans. The Germans don't want to do anything that hinders gas deliveries from Russia. The French want the whole thing to go away. The Poles and the Balts are nervous. That leaves the Brits and Canadians. That says all you need to know about how things will turn out.
Back in The Rickety Old Farmhouse kitchen 'The Font' has appeared and is making breakfast scrambled eggs. Sophie is immediately enraptured. Angus is ignored.