Welsh terriers sit and think and watch.
It’s what they do
As I type this, Roger sits in the doorway.
He’s been like this for three quarters of an hour now.
Listening to the workmen refashioning Trevor’s old bungalow, and the sparrows fighting together in the hazel hedge that separates my cottage from John & Mandy’s
I wonder if he’s thinking of anything in particular
The scaffolding is going up around the village hall and the roof and window repairs will be started soon, and even where we live, we can hear the metallic clinking of the metal poles as they are unloaded in High Street.
I found myself daydreaming too, ages spent looking out into the garden, with the village noises, wind and birds one for company.
I’ve decided that the best Disney song ever is this one
Funny where your mind wanders to when you let it










