One of those days when the cool mountain air slugs it out with the warm air from the Mediterranean. Hot one minute, chill the next. By the afternoon the weather's settled on a muggy compromise. Sophie sleeps on top of the wooden garden table, Bob sensibly dozes in the shade underneath.
Our evening walk. By the village pond hundreds of frogs are basking contentedly in the sun. Sophie considers leaping into the pond to show them who's boss. Thank heavens she's on her lead. Why did I ever think a female dog would be less of a handful than a male one ?
The German billionaire flies by on his motor glider. Should one wave at him out of courtesy or ignore him in the belief that he might become distracted and fall a hundred feet to an agonizing death ? If only Miss Manners were here. I settle for looking skywards but not waving. Bob does the same. Sophie remains fixated on the frogs.
