When we set out on our morning run, as we just did, we always have a vague idea of where we are heading and are confident we will soon be dreaming about everything we’ve seen, safe and warm with our breakfasts inside us. My experience teaches me that their world is not so certain; that our dearest friends go out to and come back from mysterous destinations, smelling of all sorts. We cannot bear their sadness and mop it with our fur. Kemo Sabe will be away again today, at Ten Blankets’ bedside a fair few miles from here. As we boys cling to the fire and listen to the wonderful Britten music coming from Snape – one of our favourite landscapes, of which we think every morning while looking out to Inner Farne (how strange is the imagnation) – we will be waiting for that return; ready to listen, comfort and warm. What more can I, a little spaniel, say? It is like Uncle Jonny all over again.