Sheep One: You’re my best friend, you are.
Sheep Two (to me): You know I have to put up with this all day, right?
Sheep One: I really, really love you.
Sheep Two: Somebody kill me now. Please.
R and I decided to take our coffee at Hillers this afternoon, and then he sat and read a book while I went to the bird hide – where there was nothing to be seen. Not a squirrel; not a pheasant. Nothing. Still, the coffee was good.
Back at home I walked the entire parish (parts of it twice) in search of birds, but found – again – almost nothing. There was barely any bird song, even – it was as if everything had gone into hiding for Halloween (not that I don’t understand that impulse). Either that, or it was like being in one of those weird episodes of The Avengers, where they find themselves in an utterly abandoned village and have to try to work out where everyone has gone.
I walked through this field by Middle Littleton Tithe Barn twice; it’s rented to the farm animal sanctuary, so these are rescue sheep and absolutely safe from mint sauce or other such horrors, but both times Sheep One rushed over to Sheep Two and cuddled her as soon as I appeared. It would have been very touching, except that Sheep Two clearly didn’t reciprocate the affection. Unrequited love is a sad, sad thing.
Just to put your minds at ease, I’m happy to tell you that the dulce de membrillo turned out perfectly; and I’ve now made my quince jelly as well, and that looks good too. So I feel I’ve stacked up enough Housewife Points to spend the rest of the week doing something more interesting – hooray!
