Not Portia

Up very early, along with my son L who leaves for work at 7. Nice non-scary drive to west Cornwall, arriving at exactly 9 as planned.  One hour handover and lists and explanations, then my cousin’s wife headed off for a 5 day holiday break. Not going far - playing golf and staying with friends. She can come back quickly if necessary, but I hope we won’t need that. 
So I’m staying with my lovely cousin, J, who was a professional photographer - in the tin mines here. He needs someone to guide him through the day, though his memory of all but the most recent things is perfect.  In fact we talked all day from 10am to midnight, which is lovely but exhausting. Above is Django on J’s lap. I suppose he is Portia’s cousin, looks awfully like her, and has an even more tangled disgraceful tummy, despite his smooth back and sides:) He’s quite good at doing his job of being a sweet companion to J. 
It rained all day - I really hope it’s raining on my garden in Bristol too. Late afternoon we headed out to the nearest bit of coast - and had a little walk on the flattest paths I could find. It had stopped raining and there was the tiniest glimmer of sun. This is Wheal Coates - one of the most recognisable images of Cornwall. In the extra. Not many tourists around, but those we met were French.