He was pulling his human companion, Julie, along the lane. I
don’t think he realised that she didn’t have skids fitted, and huskies will be
huskies. Julie is the woman who asked me whether I was ‘the gentleman who lives
at…’ when I went to the Hallowe’en bash at the pub last autumn.
‘No, you must be thinking of Fred, my late neighbour. He was
the gentleman.’
My leaning gate is now back on its hinges. The farmer was
considerate enough to get that one sorted first, so I went and leant on it. And
young Andrew, son of Farmer Stan, has started trimming the field hedges. Soon
be Christmas.
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