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Did I tell you The Crofter, bless his cotton-mix socks, 'did' the sheeps the other day? The sun was shining and all that, he came out of his lair blinking in the bright light, dusting off the acrylic [denture] dust and popping up the road, opposite here, to tickle the sheeps.

I have to say though, The Crofter does walk this way so as to provide matter for my snaps. Dad Crofter was behind on the quad don't you know. Mum Crofter strolling down too. Sheeps warily looking up the field to see what was coming their way. I was, snapping as I came.

After some prolific shaking of the feed bucket in a way which makes me wonder whether The Crofter used to play percussion with King Crimson  [he couldn't have - too young you'll be pleased to hear down there in Doncaster], the sheeps - woolly backs and Hebridean Guinea pig crosses - wandered up into the little corral put together by the nice crofter.

Mum and Dad were there too. Dad holding the sheeps and Mum directing affairs and passing the swabs or something while the sheeps had their bottom wiped, teeth checked and a special tonic given. Oh it was so warm you only needed three layers. Soon the Crofter had a bead of sweat on his forehead - the first one since 2010 if my diary is correct.

Murray 'the wood' [more of a Led Zepplin fan me thinks ] came down next doors croft with Frank and Bob, the doggies in tow. Thought there was a sheeps conference or something and came down to join in the fun, chase a lamb and what have you. We chewed the cud, chased a sheeps and laughed at Mr Crofters antics.
What a lovely day was had by all.