This afternoon there came an all too rare chance to walk in both dry and light – so off we set, the dogs and I. I suddenly realised that Bridget, the beautiful woose, was not with me and Max. I could see her standing by the tight shut gate. It took several moments to hear what had frozen her – the distant sounds of a shoot, so faint Max and I had not really registered them.
Just so I am frozen into useless horror by the suggestion that ‘if only’ I had vacuumed the floor at work ‘properly’ the floor scrubber would still work. As it always sucks up water, and won’t put out water from the perfectly clean reservoir, I doubt this. But I hear distant gunfire, and am rooted to the spot, awaiting my fate.