I live in such a friendly town, it astonishes me. Like today, I set out with the dog and first of all we meet the MS lady's son and her three dogs (multiple schlerosis, not Microsoft). Tigger barks and huffs and carries on like Margaret Thatcher, but otherwise they all get on famously.

After a play session Bertie and I head off to the marina. En route the bridge maintenance crew pass in their truck and toot and all wave. This tooting and waving thing is because I walk past them sitting under the bridge in their truck nearly every day. The older bloke who always sits in the middle has a shih tzu. One day they were all asleep in the cab, they looked so sweet I nearly took a photo. (I didn't because the engine was running and I thought, what if they're all dead?)

So we walk along the road and the bridge maintenance crew come back along, having done a circuit through the marina, and toot and all wave again. Then we're on the path up to the water treatment plant and Bertie goes on alert and disappears. It's my next door neighbour down by the water with Marble and Lazlo, the gun dogs from the house at the end of the street. Big hysterical bum-sniffing session ensues (the dogs, ha ha very funny). As Frances and I are yoo-hooing, who should drive up but Bridie with her Butch, more waving and tooting.

So I walk round the path and meet up with Frances at the jetty and we walk on together. By the marina office we meet Susy the Yorkie being carried by her owner, who lives in the sheltered housing. Back out on the road, the bridge maintenance crew go past yet again, toot toot, wave wave. I'd love to have their job, what a life they have. You never see them actually doing anything.

Then just as Frances peels off to take the dogs home, her neighbour on the other side, owner of the elderly cats, drives up.

Part of the reason I got a dog was the social aspect, and good grief, it really works. The British love dogs and if you've got a dog, everyone talks to you. Even people who don't have dogs talk to you. I think it's partly because it's something to talk about, but also it helps people recognise you.

Like the checkout woman who served me in the supermarket yesterday: "Is your dog all right?" she inquired. "Errr, yes..." Then the penny dropped. Her dog, Wallace, a frisky young Staffordshire, had tried to hump Bertie the day before. "I was soooo embarrassed!" she trilled, going bright red at the memory. This was the day after the Audrey Hepburn dress-up session. Coincidence? I wonder.