I have been painting the render on the outside of the cottage for much of the day.
It's an odious job.
Twice ramblers have stopped for eggs ( remembering I sold them from previous hikes) and twice they have been somewhat startled by the sight of a masturbating bulldog rubbing her fanny on the garden steps when they leaned over the lane wall.
I'm so used to it, I don't bother to even acknowledge her behaviour any more.
" Oh dear" one woman exclaimed when she spied Winnie whipping herself into an absolute frenzy this time against the outhouse wall " a woman has needs, don't you baby?! " she cooed. Her husband was more practical and certainly nonplussed
" She'll have all your pebble-dash off with an arse that size " he warned