Friday, 8 October 2010


The day dawned warm. Sun glances a light blow to Stac Poly and then streames through the soft white clouds with not a breath of wind. The faint sound of quads drifts through the village as sheep are gathered and taken in trailers, on foot or in the case of The Crofter - late - to the fank.
He got there in the end after a hassled morning sorting a couple of poorly beasts and dancing round his kitchen hand in hand with a mug of milky tea - builder's blend no less.

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