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Tootling off down the road to The Croft, HHHCB trotting excitedly beside me, I heard voices coming over on the wind. Looking out towards Tolsta Head I espied The Crofter and The Boy Shaun. With sheeps.

Mr Crofter seemed very happy I must say trading jokettes with The Boy Shaun in the cool breeze, sheeps listening in and covering heir eyes with dismay at the tired old jokes. TBS laughed - as he should - though deep down he was with the sheeps.

They had important work to do practising their counting Yan tan tethera and what have you. Mr Crofter was from 'down there' after all. I on the other hand have only just returned from 'down there' for a week and knew what he was on about. Shaun shut his eyes and wished he could talk to someone sensible. Only, I didn't have time.

The sheeps once counted had to be moved from up here on the croft to down there, no, not 'down there' but down there above the beach on the common grazing. Out came the plastic sheeps dog - otherwise known as a bucket of feed and off they went.

Soon the sheeps were happily on the grass looking lazily at the beach and wondering if they will fall down the cliff to join their mate who went that way a few weeks back.

We do hope not!

At this point I was accosted by a cyclist looking for The Road To Nowhere. I sent him off on a wild gooses chase - of which there are plenty and skipped all the way home.