Every second Monday in the month, a middle aged married couple call in for whatever duck eggs I have for sale. We exchange small talk, nothing more, so they could be forgiven their expressions of surprise when I asked if the husband could lend me a hand to lift Winnie into the bath after she had rolled into something unmentionable on the side of the road.
It's not a typical request when you are out for a heigh- ho ramble but the husband seemed up for the challenge, especially after I had given him an old sob story about pulling my back after an over strenuous cough and fart attack
It was a struggle but after a brief wrestling match and a couple of loud " fucking hells" from my helper
She was in
And boy was she not happy about it
It cost me 6 duck eggs for the trouble