As I am sure you know by now, I live opposite a Post Box. It is jolly useful. All I have to do is write the letter, stamp it, then Percy and I wend our way down the drive, across the road and along the footpath the other side back to the postbox. This morning I needed to do this before the postman came to empty the box for the day. Gone are the days when there were two or even three deliveries a day (remember them? If you do then you must be of pensionable age at least). It is a nice feeling to get a job completed.
But it has been raining hard all night, everywhere was saturated and the long grass on the piece of spare ground hung over the path. And - what a sight. I wish I had taken my camera with me but no way were Percy and I doing this journey twice on a morning like this. The footpath was literally covered with small snails with pretty fawn and white swirly shells, all making their way across the foot path from one patch of grass to another. Such a beautiful display.
Then a paragraph in today's Times caught my eye over my morning coffee. Luckily it doesn't happen too often but it is not a unique happening - two last year - and so far only one this year. But a very popular man - only in his fifties - from Richmond (our Richmond, only a few miles from here) was killed at the start of this week while walking his dogs. He was walking on a footpath but through a field of cows with calves. (it is that time of year) and he was killed by the cows. What a tragic loss of life and really nobody to blame. Leaving behind him a distraught family and a whole lot of young people in the school where he was Deputy Head - just enjoying his walk - innocent cows only doing what any mother would do - protect its child. Sometimes life is cruel.