The Bottles Of Sauce Are Getting On My West Ham Reserves. I Want To Live On A Proper Field Of Wheat

[poliphilo]

The wind has died down, there have been a couple of brief power cuts this morning, I understand there's a fourth big storm on the way.

I've been picking up sticks and putting them on burn sites- one in the top field, one in the bottom field. Whether I'll get to fire up these bonfires myself is debatable.

Ailz is mostly eating fruit these days, I put her peelings on the compost heap and a horse leans over the wall and eats them. It has been interesting having horses for neighbours (there's a pun lurking in there) but I don't like having them follow me round the fields going, "Food, food, food..." They don't frighten me, but I hate to be pestered. I won't miss them when we move.

The Country Life section of my life is coming to an end. It's been fun being Lord of the Manor- but I'm a townee at heart- (a cockney even- born within the sound of Bow bells) and I miss living on a proper street. It's been nearly nine years since I was last able to walk to the shops.

Comments

[cmcmck]

She's called Gladys.

Who calls a storm Gladys?

We get the best of both worlds- we live on a proper street, but in a small rural market town.

[poliphilo]

For that matter, who calls a storm Dudley or Eunice? I think they've deliberately chosen a raft of comedy names.