Our new neighbours

I’d had a right old funny week with the farmer. I couldn’t fathom what he was doing outdoors; pacing his field, hammering this and shaking that. And he looked rather puzzled at what I was doing indoors; clattering pans, swirls of steam and heavenly scents.

And then, during a midnight SkinnyDip-making session, I had the fright of my life. The pitch black farm was no longer quietly eerie: There were sounds worthy of a horror movie… heavy breathing…stumbling….groaning and squealing.

Aaaargh! An INTRUDER! I panicked and fled into the night; heart racing, cold sweats. In fact, I almost fainted with fright.

But the next morning I was greeted with a field full of calves, bounding recklessly in their new-found freedom. Hmmmm, so feeling rather wimpish I started to name each and every one of them.

Gertrude, Matilda, Buttercup, Florence….