It’s always when you’ve been pottering round for a bit and not putting your face on that things happen. At least I was dressed. I rarely come downstairs before I’m dressed as it’s the sure prompt for a small and orderly queue of people to come to the door and embarrass me.
Anyway, I did this and that and was just thinking of putting the eye in and the face on when the phone rang. It was Daphne. A cow had just walked past her door going towards the road. I thanked her, said I’d go and see what I could do – I was just putting in the contact lens when Dilly rang. She gave the same unwelcome news, but added that she didn’t think it was one of ours as it was very small and she thought it was a boy. I started to cuss the neighbouring farmer – a charming man but an annoying stockman – who is really quite careless about keeping his cattle in his fields. Then I got on my bike, clutching a stout walking stick in one hand and whizzed off towards the church. There was no sign of a cow or bullock. I went up the road some way, in case it had gone into someone’s garden, but couldn’t see it. I went to look down the footpath alongside our field and there were two large cows talking to their cousins which were still in the field. They were well down the path and I went home to get some rope to close off the path.
I also spent three minutes slapping on some make-up. Vain? Merely considerate of other people.
The Sage came home. I suggested that he might try to remember taking his phone with him in case I needed him and told him the situation. We agreed that he’d go across the field and I’d go back to the path in case they went the wrong way.
No more drama, those good girls were peacefully grazing, the Sage found where the fence was broken down and I walked them back to the opening, and they returned home. I’d noticed the cause of all the trouble though; a small bullock which was nuzzling the cows hopefully in a “will you be my new mum?” sort of way. He really was quite small and I feel sorry for him. Evidently, he’d got out of his field, got lost, nearly went on the road, then saw the cows and pushed his way through the fence. Then they went through the gap. We left him there with the cows – the farmers can sort it out.
It was 10.45. I went home and had a substantial breakfast, as I’d not eaten yet, of black coffee, plain yoghurt, dry toast and (this was what made it more substantial than usual) a banana. If it weren’t for the quantity of wine I drink (though not normally for breakfast) I’d be tiny already.