It was around four when I heard Albert “ Chatter”
It’s a funny sound and a rare one in this house as I can only liken it to a very small person shaking a very tiny set of maracas.
Cats usually chatter at birds that they can’t reach or ambush and Albert is no different
But the chatter was in the middle of the night
And the only birds around at that time are a pair of barn owls that swoop silently across the valley from Marion Mawr.
Albert was sat in the window seat looking down into the lane with wide yellow eyes.
I got up and wrapped the quilt cover around my shoulders and joined him.
He moved over without averting his gaze.
He was watching a pair of badgers in the lane who were trotting after each other somewhat playfully.
February is the mating season for badgers.
Living in the country has its upsides and downsides. But how many people can say that they have watched badgers courting outside their windows at night?
Not very many.
The boar wagged his fat bottom as he trotted into the garden and stopped to listen as Roger sleepily barked once from the kitchen.
They pottered and played for a while like hairy pigs.
Badgers are noisy animals and grunt and snort when they explore and as I grew cold I left them too it and returned to bed where Dorothy spooned me without waking up.
I heard Albert chatter some more before everything returned to a sort of silence again
I asked my google cube what time it was
It’s now chatting as a butch man and told me in a manly way that it was 4.22 am
I asked it to play a tropical rain shower which it did and I fell asleep almost immediately with no dreams of badgers or of Pedro Pascal or of anything of note for that matter
Day off today.
A walk,
Some shopping,
And theatre later with Gorgeous Dave
We are seeing the stage version of The Shawshank Redemption
I’ve just put out the reclycling and saw a few untidy holes in the borders of the front garden
The badgers have removed many of my spring bulbs from beside the stone wall.
And tufts of grey hair can be seen stuck in the lower branches of the hydrangea that faces the West
You can’t complain
Not when you’ve left the gate open
from Going Gently https://ift.tt/kDpyB0z
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