In the spirit of Pavlov
There are compensations working from home. This morning, as I amble around the field at seven o'clock with the dogs, dozens of swallows dart in and out the trees. I hear a buzzard mewing and then the comical noise of six Canada geese honking as they fly in graceful formation overhead. Two crows flap far apart high in the sky and a lone seagull cries on a chimney pot above Alf's cottage. Now back in the house, I reflect on the weekend gone by. It has been one spent with friends - a dinner party chez Mr St John and Lady Friend, a barbecue with Mrs Bancroft and Nobby Odd-Job just before the carnival in Bridport, a classic car charity breakfast the next morning and then a veggie supper at the Grigg abode with the Sheepwashes and the Logginses. A non-stop circle of friendship. The carnival could have been better but it was good to see community groups out in force. And in between the majorettes and the drab collecting vehicles, there were flashes of brilliance and a great deal of ...