by Max Akroyd
Very mild again today – shame about the gale-driven rain!
After feeding time this morning the mini-pigs poked their noses out of their house, grunted a bit and retired to their pig-shaped hollows in the straw. The hens could look as hoity-toity as they liked: opening their door was out of the question. The goats just chewed their straw thoughtfully as the wind buffeted the breeze block walls of their shed.
A mammalian exception, I decided something could be done today. Some of my sheets of plastic mulch were starting to make like the sails of a yacht so I scuttled around the field trying to get rocks on to the loose bits before they carried the whole field off into the low-flying clouds.
My clothes are now drying in front of the fire and the prospect of some business-related paperwork seems unusually attractive.