As I am not poisoning frigana I leave the big iron gates at the end of the Greek Hovel open to all. It saves time for me, the builders and for any shepherd who wishes to use my land. Not that many do right now so brown is the grass.
And thus yesterday afternoon as the Mrs and I dozed on the bed of the Bat Room we were woken by very load bells and bleats, the unmistakable sound of sheep. We normally hear these sounds from the other side of the valley, up past the abandoned convent but these noises were coming from far closer than that. And so I opened the door and there was a sheep. I stepped outside and there were several dozen sheep just wandering around the house.
Herding them was not a wizened old man or crone, leaning on his or her staff but a brown dog which barked fiercely at me. I beat a quick retreat and closed the door. For another ten minutes or so I could hear sheep wandering around the house. I was encircled. I had a quick look outside the door and there was a sheep but where was the dog?
And then they were gone, the sheep and the terrifying dog had disappeared. Our brief period of having company up at the hovel was over.
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