Bob heads off with 'the font' in the car. His twice a week visit to the big market town to see heavy traffic ( or as heavy as you can find in a town with a population of 3,000 ) , mingle with crowds ( ditto ) and experience all those exciting things you can't find here in the village. Sophie stays behind to patrol the sunflower fields, bark at the frogs in the pond and chase any blackbirds daft enough to wander into her line of vision.
PON purists say you shouldn't cut the hair over their eyes. We find that the pups are much happier if they can see through the blinding layers of fur that rise up and fall down in front of them. No two ways about it. They are calmer , quieter and more relaxed when they can see.
Efforts to break into the compost heap continue. Bob has excavated a large hole ( long and deep enough for him to lie flat out in ) in a corner where the barn wall meets the fence. The two great escapers are trying to dig a spur under the fence when I find them. An old stone, a large flower pot, a piece of broken chair and a surplus length of plastic fence are all installed as an interim defence. The hole is filled in.
Tonight we are invited to the German ' supermarket ' billionaires for drinks. '' We have American guests. You'll like them " says the German billionaire in annoyingly flawless and accentless English before adding " Come up through the postern gate ". Angus spends the night worrying about how we'll recognize the postern gate.
