We were invited to a friend's for lunch today, and as she lives just down on the main road and it has been a gorgeous spring day, we decided to walk the mile along the valley road. Now, neither of us had done this for quite a while, and what with the sunshine, my slightly gammy foot, the lambs, the butterflies, the flowers....we kept stopping and looking around.
So that was how we came to be paused by the house about half-way along, looking down on to the meadow below. "Oh, more sheep" said the DSM. "Or not" rather reflectively.
What we have, in our own valley, is alpaca - at least three, almost black, moorit if alpaca can be called moorit and a pale one. O yippee, says I, my favourite. The next thing is to get to talk to the people who own them and find out what they do with the fleece.
The friend we were lunching with was slightly shamefaced, as she had known for ages - ages in the sense of a year or three - and had not actually thought to tell me. Humph.
OK, so we wandered back home, the sun was shining even more, so we had a tray of tea out in the garden. And very nice it was too. Still is, the mogs are still out there.
Dopey, because rather full of dinner.
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