The weather last night went all a bit haywire.
Hail, rain, and a single loud clap of thunder lashed the cottage and field and at around 11pm the windows literally rattled in their frames when huge gusts of wind came literally out of nowhere.
I debated whether or not to check on the state of the Ukrainian village, and heart won over from brains, and so with my trusty wind up torch in hand, I wandered around in the dark
I am glad I did, as the roof of one hen house had been removed completely and had sailed halfway across the field. The 8 hens inside had remained safe, and had crammed themselves into just two nest boxes for safety
It reminded me of one of those Guinness Book of records attempts where a load of bored students get crammed into a telephone box for a laugh.
Anyhow I repaired the hen house and was schelping my way back across the mud when I spied the chunky figure of a badger trotting out of the gloom from the direction of the graveyard. It had something in its mouth, and fascinated I melted back against Cogburn's tall coop to watch him.
Bizarrely the badger was carrying a small posy of flowers with grim determination.They looked to be white blooms and could have been,in fact plastic
The Posy was probably a tribute from one of the graves in the graveyard.
I wondered if they were from Mrs Jones' grave,
the last burial in the village.
The badger eventually tottered past me and disappeared into the dark with his head held high