12th October 2013

I awoke to the unwelcome sight of several more dead kerlinkas scattered across the duvet. Hoping the strange taste lingering in my mouth wasn’t some sort of insect protein, I washed it away with a comforting honey coffee before taking Banjo on his longest walk yet.

We passed the cemetery (picturesque, if a little morbid for a morning stroll) and crossed the meadow to the dirt track we’d discovered earlier in the week. This time, instead of climbing uphill for the views, we opted for adventure and went downhill. After all, descending seemed a far more civilised way to work off last night’s dubious dinner than trying to emulate an Olympic uphill trek.

Banjo trotted happily along the logging lorry tracks until I decided to give him a lift, letting him take in the panorama that his genetics had denied him. For a few minutes, he gazed wide-eyed, head whipping about as though absorbing deep universal truths, while I was merely wondering where the next patch of shade was. This soon became our little ritual: lift, gawp, unimpressed doggy face, repeat.

Then came the highlight. Breaking through a stand of trees, we stumbled upon a valley with two magnificent stags standing across the way, frozen like models for a wildlife calendar. I reached for my camera with the stealth of a professional, only for “Smart Mode” to betray me. By the time the software had finished its calculations, the deer had sprinted to the horizon. My camera obligingly clicked a perfect shot of an empty meadow. So much for my National Geographic career.

The walk continued, Banjo bounding through dense undergrowth while I fought off swarms of insects with a makeshift oak switch. Eventually, we emerged back into the sunlight near David’s, where he was up a ladder, grinding tiles, and slowly turning the colour of a traffic cone.

The afternoon settled into a rhythm of pruning roses and firs, regular breaks for brown liquid, and even a brief siesta, proof that even garden warriors need to recharge. In the evening, we washed off the dust and sweat, then headed to the bar for dinner, where I made Skype calls to Sarah and Sue for the latest gossip from home. By the end of the meal, I was too tired to contemplate a film, retreating instead to bed before the kerlinkas staged another ambush.