Back-breaking

I was alerted by the sound of vehicles parking in the field next to me, and voices, foreign voices. Definitely not French or Italian or German. It was the summer workers from Eastern Europe, here to clear the field of offending weeds and wheat blow-ins before the barley could be harvested. It was baking hot, just after midday, and I watched as the eight of them fanned out and quartered the field, first taking one strip, and then moving as a team to sweep the next one. They kept going without a break, stooping to pull up the weeds by hand, and were still only halfway through when I set off at 1.30. Hard work is what they do, and what they are so highly prized for. Hats off. But I hope this doesn't mean the harvest is going to happen too soon. The disappearance of that huge golden stretch, especially if they plough straight away, will be very hard to take so early in the year.

Before lunch I took Hugo to the vet to check that he was OK, and to monitor his weight. He was 19.1 kilos, an increase of over 4lbs on last time! His skinny ribs and protruding backbone have all but vanished, and he looks healthy and well fed. Such a relief. His lunchtime snack of a heel of bread toasted with butter cut into small pieces and hand fed has now stopped. What he is eating twice a day is perfectly balanced for him. I don't want him turning into a Rottweiler. While we were in Fram I knocked on the door of one of the open gardens that I viewed a few weekends ago. Of all 15 this one appealed to me most, but given the appallingly wet conditions I only had a brief word with the elderly owner then. This time I asked her if I could have a better look and take some photos. She was delighted in my interest, as you are when you've made a garden, and showed me around while I snapped away. It's walled and mature, quite beautiful, but I wanted to see how she had filled her various beds to give me ideas for my own. She told me that sometimes she walks the 100 or so yards to the shops only to find a cold wind blowing. In her enclosed space she's sheltered from that.Lucky her.

Then it was off to Italian where my new-found state of wellness put me in a very good mood and accordingly my speaking skills were remarkably improved despite no homework. It's always a jolly afternoon, and when tea was clered away and Lesley had gone, Ruth and I took Hugo for a walk on Westleton Common and then had a drink in the Crown hotel garden. As usual around this coast the hotel was full of well-heeled couples enjoying a break, but who'd have guessed that most of them would have dogs? The bar was bedlam, with one Yorkie emitting a constant sharp brain-piercing bark. The barman winced discreetly, but others were staring directly at the impervious elderly owner. In the garden Hugo decided that the two red setters, the the beareded collie, the black labrador, the black cocker spaniel and the dachshund were trespassing on his territory, and set up his own aggressive tirade. I had only just finished telling two chatty people from Milton Keynes, Roger (I wish I'd been called Hugo) and Marian (we have a grandson called Stanley, ugh, and he's not even a very nice boy) that the dog never barked. Oh Hugo. Make a liar of me would you?