The society pages.

 

Man proposes, God disposes. After a rough start to the week Sophie has a good day. She even clambers up the stairs to join us for dinner. " I'll have what you're having " her new attitude to food. Her rediscovery of stairs a surprise.

She sleeps for a full twelve hours but wakens at five keen to go sightseeing. 

We head out onto the Old Course. Not even the most avid of golfers are up and about yet . The town is ours and ours alone.  Yesterday she couldn't have managed a twenty minute walk. This morning she's out for an hour. She's taken to eating grass. Lots and lots of grass. Hints of OCD ?  I tell her she's become more sheep than sheepdog. Walk, graze, walk, graze our new tempo. One difference is her attitude to other dogs. If she catches sight of another canine she howls - and not in a welcoming way. 

Returning home Sophie is greatly intrigued by a couple that are having their wedding pictures taken for a society magazine. Old fashioned purists might think you'd wait until after the ceremony to do this. Seems the bride ( and the magazine photographer ) want to take the snaps while the light is good. The family diva is quite willing to pose in front of the soon to be happy couple. I apologise and 'encourage' her along. American tourists happily record the scene as if dawn weddings are exactly what they expected to see in a Scottish town. One gentleman in a yellow baseball cap shouts out to his wife " Hey Marcie. Come and take a look at this. It's so cute ". I'm not sure this is quite the response the bride wanted.

By the chapel Scots boys in kilts are showing up, quite literally, for a wedding breakfast.  From the assured air of the young folks I'm guessing they are all recent graduates. Sophie is keen to join them but I explain that her presence  may steal the limelight. She reluctantly heads home. Two very pretty bridesmaids tell her she's a beauty. This is accepted with a ' tell me something I didn't know ' wag of the tail.

Sophie is quite clear as to what is expected of us and grooming isn't part of it. She has perfected the ' Don't even come near me with a brush ' glare. For the next part of her journey she will sport the 'dishevelled' look.

Life at the last wee house before Denmark continues to be exciting. The electricians have damaged two of the new kitchen unit doors. Replacements  are ordered. The decorator says he can't start next week as planned. It's the school holidays. The pump that powers the extractor fan in the downstairs shower room has seized up. A man from Kirkcaldy comes to measure up the blinds in the dining room. He is very slow in taking measurements. The worktop is running ten days behind schedule. It will be fitted when the new bathrooms are installed.  That should be fun. On the other side of the country plans for a memorial service are being formulated. The family in the States is told their presence is expected. It is a surprise just how many of the next generation are in distant places. There again Scots have always travelled.  Tonight the next door neighbours are throwing a drinks party to welcome us back into town. The gate between our garden and the neighbours and ours will be opened. We try to delay it but the doughty wife of the German professor says "  We're all dog and farming folks here. I'll tell everyone to ignore Sophie. She'll sleep to the sound of happy voices ".