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skittish creatures but clearly something had startled them, Pierrot's breath perhaps; I couldn't
see any hunters out. Then I realised I'd lost Toby. Sure enough, there he was at the back of
the deer herd, barking maniacally at his inability to catch them up, and I could still hear him
long after they'd all disappeared from view. I didn't see him again until dinner time.
On our return I hoovered up, made lunch and gave everyone their medicines. I fed the
horses, which I'm pleased to say Ultime appreciated, though Junior, in a show of petulance
that was needless even by his standards, tried to take a chunk out of my arm. I gave Thérence
his milk and put him back to bed. I picked Samuel up, helped him with his homework, made
him and Maurice an afternoon snack, got Thérence up, fed the cats and the dogs, made din-
ner, played with the boys, sprayed breath-freshener in Pierrot's face, washed Toby down on
his return, bathed the boys, got them ready for bed, read them stories and opened a crate of
beer fully intending to down the whole lot. The diet, I reasoned, could wait - I had too much
to do.
The previous weekend I had done a day's filming - seven live shows in five days, a radio
show and two showbiz parties - and considered myself to be on the brink of exhaustion. But
it was nothing compared to just one day filling in for Natalie and her routine with the kids
and animals. She joined me downstairs briefly to stock up on Advil. 'Don't forget tomorrow
morning,' she said, 'Monsieur Butard is coming to give us a quote about the building.'
'Oh yes,' I replied, 'I'd forgotten.'
'And,' Natalie continued, wearily reaching the top of the stairs where she paused to get her
breath back, 'we need to decide where to put the hens.' And with that she was gone.
This wasn't something I'd forgotten. This was news.
