And so another visit to Lord Bonkers draws to a close.This evening I walk by the shore, trying to ignore the entwining tones of clarinet and vuvuzela.
Suddenly Ruttie rears from the water with what can only be described as a spoony look on her face: goo-goo eyes isn’t the half of it. She lollops across the field, making a beeline for the Hall and it is all I can do to keep up with her. Skirting the cricket pitch in front of the old place (she is nothing if not a lady) Ruttie bursts into the my walled garden and then into the kitchen garden.
With a beatific smile upon her face she leaps into the air and lands smack upon the potting shed amid an appalling sound of splintering wood. I do hope Meadowcroft and the Paramount Chief are all right.
Earlier this week
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