The village from the West
The temperature gauge says 22 and sunny but it feels hotter than that. Dorothy couldn’t take a long walk so we took advantage of there being no sheep in Graham’s fields and the girls ran around for just five minutes before wanting to go home to lay their nipples on cold concrete,
Albert joined us as per, but he too found the sun too fierce and so retired under giant Beech tree like a lion.
We left him watching a couple of foolish rabbit pups with narrow eyes.
He’s still bad tempered .
It’s Sunday morning and the shooting range over in Trelogan is in fine form. The putt, putts of the shotguns echoing around the valley hills like fireworks at New Year.
I’ve heard a cuckoo, just once which is rare
There is a heat haze over the village and it feels deserted , like a Spanish village at noon
Thank goodness the elderflower cordial I prepared three days ago is ready to drink.
from Going Gently https://ift.tt/3rgr1RY
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