The farmer is shooting today and has taken a packed lunch of ham sandwiches, pork pie, date and walnut cake and an orange, plus a flask of coffee and whisky (not in equal quantities). It is a horrible day - hardly light and drizzling - but at least it is reasonably warm and the sort of weather where the pheasants might easily escape the guns (only one more shoot after today and then they will be safe for another year).
I spent an hour chatting on the telephone to a niece who lives in Derby - lovely chatty hour, then showered and dressed and it was lunch time. For lunch I had the farmer's worst nightmare lunch - breaded tiger prawns cooked for ten minutes in a hot oven, with a bowl of ante-pasta from our lovely local deli. Sun dried tomatoes, roasted red peppers and stuffed black olives - all in flavoured olive oil. It was heaven, washed down with a glass of white wine.
We have had our walk, Tess and I, and I have just lit the wood-burner. The farmer will be in shortly and this evening it is the semi final of the snooker, so no prizes for guessing what he will be doing - and my crochet blanket should grow by a few squares too.
If I can manage to catch him unawares I shall post a photograph tomorrow of the farmer, who has started going to feed the sheep, on his beloved little grey Fergie . He will try his best to evade capture, so don't bank on it.