Diane the Dawg has just been round for her daily treat. I’ve had to decant her biscuits into a plastic container after Paul stuck his hand into the original cardboard box and pulled out a mouse. He let out a very high pitched squeak. The mouse didn’t utter a word.
Another peaceful day has passed in our hamlet (apart from a few low flying air force jets). All I can hear is the chirping of the cicadas in the meadow. We seem far removed from the troubles of the country – national strikes, city riots, fuel shortages, etc. We do very little motoring out here so our tank of diesel will probably last the summer. If we can’t get petrol for the mower then we’ll just let the grass grow high. I suppose there’s always the chance that the supermarket shelves will be empty the next time we go shopping.
In the meantime I shall stick my head in the sand and continue to enjoy my quiet, pastoral life. While the world is in turmoil I have been messing around in the garden and turned Paul’s potting shelf into a fernery. When the lantern is lit after dark it looks quite atmospheric – just needs a few dancing fairies and toadstools.