To dare is to lose one's footing momentarily. To not dare is to lose oneself.

Seven in the evening. The mayor pops in for a ' wee chat '. He brings with him the lady with the Marge Simpson hairdo and the man in the yellow reflective jacket . They settle in the drawing room.  It seems that the staff at the special needs school in the little market town have taken to driving through the village on  their way to work . Some of them are speeding . '' M'Ongoose ! There may be an accident " says the mayor. He repeats himself to make sure I've understood. The lady with the beehive hairdo sips her champagne and adds " we must think of the children ". The man in the yellow reflective jacket thinks speed cameras might be needed. Angus, unhelpfully, points out that the authorities might not want to install a speed camera for the twenty or so cars that use the lane every day. After a second glass of champagne our visitors leave. It seems more research is needed .

Bob and Sophie discover white truffles. They approve. In fact their attention is so intense you might believe they are Polish Lowland Truffling Dogs. Bob has that look that says that white truffle pasta is a staple of the PON diet. 

Trouble is the common denominator of life. It is the great equalizer.

The German billionaires are building a new garage. The hill scooped out to make room for four hundred square metres of concrete on each of its two levels. Home for their collection of gullwing Mercedes . Sophie wanders down with me to watch the cement being poured . The operator of the cement mixer catches sight of her, stops what he's doing, clambers out of the cab and wanders over . '' Tu es jolie " he says  while scratching her behind the ear. Sophie accepts this attention as if it's the most natural thing in the world to be tickled and praised by the operator of a large piece of construction machinery.

Bob spends his afternoon waiting in the courtyard for  pilgrims to wander by. This is proving to be an excellent season for pilgrim spotting . A dozen unsuspecting Belgians wander by and are greeted enthusiastically. They pick up their pace as they pass the front gate. 

At the honey farm a new addition. A black and white hunting dog. He greets Bob like a long lost cousin.