Bravely.

Sophie smells Bolognaise sauce and makes a bee line for the kitchen.

She maintains a proprietorial interest in what's going on while hoping her brother will go far away.

Bob wonders why Bolognaise sauce takes so long to prepare. He'd be happy to have it now.

Among the mornings e-mails an invitation to the opening of a Korean Fried Chicken restaurant in San Francisco. '' Chicken as you've never known it " says the spiel. What new can you do to fried chicken ?

Winter has arrived in our little touch of paradise. The outside taps are lagged. Logs are chopped into stove sized pieces and stored in the barn. Despite the chill wind the roses are blooming as if it's mid-summer. Bob and Angus sit on the storm drain and put the world to rights. Two Saudi Princes have died in the last 24 hours, which is unusual. 

The PONs and their master head off for a long walk in the afternoon sun. Both the dogs coats are in their winter growing stage. Sophie's, I could swear, sprouts in front of my eyes.  Bob finds a truly interesting stick which he refuses to share with his sister. Sophie finds a squashed toad. They watch the buzzards. Every so often the two of them take off and career down the track - ears flapping - in pursuit of something invisible. 

By the waterfall the young cows wander over to say hello. Bob, who is fearless, would be more than happy to saunter into the middle of the herd for a chat but is dissuaded from doing so. Sophie positions herself, bravely, behind my left knee.

After a two hour walk the angelic duo remember that there's Spaghetti for dinner. What started off as the best day ever is maturing into a vintage day.

The busy have no time for tears.

There is a jam factory in the little market town. In fact it's not so much a factory more a corrugated iron shed. An unprepossessing little building that stands on a patch of ground next to where the long gone train station used to be.  It seems that today is the jam sheds 125th birthday. The firms eight employees are celebrating in style.

In front of the cafe a group of jolly musicians , hired specially for the occasion , are clambering onto a tractor drawn trailer. They're not going anywhere because the tractor driver is in the cafe enjoying a pre-breakfast libation. Finally, after much tooing and froing , trailer, driver , employees and musicians are united. They circle round  the market square three times before heading off , the wrong way, down the one way street that leads to the Post Office. The oompah oompah oompah of the band slowly fading into the distance.

Bob and Sophie are intrigued. They stand by me as if glued to the spot . Bobs tail wags twenty to the dozen. He would like this to happen every morning. Excitement over, they get their illicit half croissant and shared bowl of water from the waitress. Sophie is happy that all is once again right with the world.

Last night and this morning the constant roar of aircraft heading south east ; Syria bound. Higher and faster than commercial flights. The hinge of history turning again.