Hierachy of things.

Saturday evening.  We sit out in the garden with a glass of Chablis watching Jupiter and the moon drifting , side by side, slowly through the sky. Out at sea there's a large naval vessel. It's been there for two nights now guarding the sea bed cables that run south from Svalbard. These are turbulent times.

Sunday morning day break. The village Jack Russells are out and about for their morning 'exploration'. One of them, in deference to the chilly weather, is wearing a coat. They both try to establish a rapport with the vision of loveliness they find walking along the farm track towards them. Sophie is having none of it .They are told, in no uncertain terms, what their place is in the hierachy of things. The Jack Russells have second thoughts about pursuing her and head off towards the seashore in search of adventure.

On the track that runs alongside the broccoli patch we meet the man in the orange anorak. I say 'Good morning '. He replies with two words that are altogether less cheery. He clearly has 'issues'.

Sophie is loaded into the back of the car. We are off to the specialist cheese shop to pick up some British Camembert that the owner says is wonderful. It sells out very quickly so you need to be there early.