Monday, 9 March 2015
In which One is the outdoor type…
Sheep, see above, Dear Reader, are compulcated and intelligent animals. Far more so than One had previously thought.
For examply, there is the lesser known ‘lookout sheet’ what stands atop a dry stone wall and biffs off, shitty arse-wool billowing in the breeze, to warn the others that danger is approaching in the shape of ‘me an’ ‘im’
This happened regularly upon our lengthy perambulation across the moor.
One is a regular little David Attenborough now…
One can identify, sheep, other than in an attractive package at Waitrose. One is fully knowledged up re: birds and ponies and even frogspawn. One has Aged P’s old bird identification book what One refers to on a regular basis.
One feels at one with nature, even when perched on a suitable arse-sized outcrop of rock smoking a fag and having an espresso out of our new thermos.
I can’t believe we’ve got a sodding thermos flask! What next? Sitting in the car staring at the sea, eating white bread, fish paste sandwiches with our matching hats on.
AND One has identified the, previously unknown Duck Tree. Let me explain Dear Reader, One has begun a collection of tree branches that resemble the neck, head and even the eye of a duck.
Presently the damp and shitty Duck Tree branches are drying out atop the radiator with the A of the F’s shreddies.
In the future, when One has brushed all the sheep shite and mud off the ducks and varnished them, One shall bequeath them to a grateful nation in the manner of that Chichester sort who left her shells for everyone to ponder on.