Rain, heavy rain.

Dawn arrived bright and clear but it soon clouded over and dense,heavy,Mull type rain has arrived - much needed by the olives after a month of scorching weather. Digby can sense the thunder rolling on the hills in the distance and has become clinically attached to my right ankle, all the while doing his best impression of a Dickensian waif dog. Wherever I go - he goes. Wilf by contrast is quite happy dozing in the kitchen dreaming that the cookie jar has fallen off the shelf and deposited its contents right in front of him. In terms of character these two are just so different - Wilf the strong silent type and Digby the exact opposite.

Even though I say so myself the depleted packing team did a wonderful job yesterday throwing out old paint cans and disposing of a collection of garden chemicals. Whatever looked as though it might be useful in the garden or fields has been redistributed down to the pool house for the benefit of the new owner. The cupboards are now 100% empty! Digby sat in the hallway watching me clear out - in the process reassuring himself that nothing edible was jettisoned . Faced with a decision on whether an item should stay or go I would ask Digby his opinion - one bark yes, silence no. It worked a treat. I'd like to think that talking to a dog is different from talking to yourself

All being well the 'font' returns today to the delight of all concerned - not least to have someone with a vocabulary to talk to. The boyz will be particularly happy that their diet of plain kibbles will now be augmented by all sorts of healthy goodies.