Inked.

The bathroom fitters start work. 'The Font' is there early to open up the house. They are due at eight but arrive at seven thirty. Both gentlemen are ex-Navy and heavily 'inked'. Quite what the Navy should produce so many bathroom fitters is something of a mystery. The kitchen folks show up for an hour then disappear. They replace the two damaged doors. We have made a mistake with our kitchen fitters - they are fine at fitting units but they can't coordinate with the plumbers, tilers and electricians. The decorator makes an appearance. We know him from the wee house in town.  He proves to be an angel. He will send in a team later this week to take care of the 'snagging'. There is rather a lot of 'snagging '. ' I'm not going to tell you that this isn't the way to do things- but it isn't ' he says surveying the position of the units.  He promises to remedy the issues. The skip was due to be delivered yesterday but will arrive later today.

Sophie has a good afternoon.

The garden in the wee house is a quiet and safe place for a girl to doze. The walls are made with stones from the old cathedral. They retain the summer warmth. Her flock are near by. She snores loudly and contentedly. Later there is spaghetti with chicken for dinner. It disappears in a flash.

Sophie's enjoying life but confusion is becoming more of a thing. She's most comfortable when at home. We spend a lot of time standing still staring at invisible things. Some straining for the first time this morning. Sometimes the diva's aware of her surroundings at other times she's chilling out big time. Woe betide any dog that enters her field of vision. 

This morning, batteries charged after ten hours of uninterrupted sleep, she sets off along the coastal path. Every hundred or so yards she turns to make sure I'm keeping up. She gives me an unmistakable ' Do hurry up !' look.

Down by the harbour her energy levels have fallen. She can't go any further. We've been out for an hour.  It's too far to carry her back so I call 'The Font' who gets up and brings the car down to pick us up.  'Five am chauffeur service for Miss Sophie'. We laugh. There are three other dogs being walked near the harbour. Good to know we're not the only early risers. We shall continue to gently drift . 

On the cliffs where the eiders breed there's a dozen wild orchids. The same variety that used to grow en masse in the field in France where the large brown fox, the size of an Alsatian, lived.  There's something rather comforting about that. Everything is familiar.

Through it all people we don't know stop to ask about Sophie. The ice cream shop and the Italian restaurant fill up their water bowls last thing at night so Sophie can detour by them in the morning. We are reminded that there is a community spirit among dog owners that is remarkable.

This map showing Brits love of processed food in comparison with other Europeans is a shock :https://twitter.com/lijukic/status/1664694534771560469