Any port in a (sunny) storm.

This is a strange place. We never know what we're going to find in the garden. Occasionally you look out from your front door, and there's some bloke sitting down outside, enjoying the sunshine with his dog.

I'm not sure why, but he had decided to sit down for a while on our terrace, and admire the view.

I do know who he is; he's our erstwhile 'neighbour' Maurice. He's quite a character. He used to live in a caravan inside an old tobacco barn, but he's recently gone up in the world, and has bought himself a plastic cottage (a sort of large plastic Wendy House), that used to be on a nearby holiday camp. 

We get on very well, but he must have had a stroke at some time, and his speech has been affected quite badly; he's very difficult to understand. I tend to do all the talking when we're together, otherwise I keep having to ask him to repeat himself.

His dog is a beautiful big German Shepherd.

I left him alone; I was busy, and didn't really want to spend half an hour chatting. He seemed very happy by himself. About 20 mins later I noticed that he'd upped and gone.

He's always very welcome to sit here a while. I think he likes the view; it's one of the best in the village!.