plaintive bleat greeted us tonight from within the bowels of the felled ash tree. Fifi the focus was laden with apples freshly gathered for the pigs suppers from the garden of an extraordinary lady who lives nearby. Dotty is in her late eighties, has lived in the locality of Rock HQ for most of her life and is wiser and more informative then the Oracle. The Oracle knows her of course and quakes at her name as she can out anecdote him any day. She did move away for a while, the war years when she was an ack ack gunner and took part in skirmishes with the Luftwaffe as they tried to break Britain's resolve with night raids. After a lovely cuppa and a few bickies we went into the garden where I had to physically stop her carrying feed sacks full of apples to the back of the car. She was concerned because, well she knew about my arm, I was concerned that a nearly ninety year old was going to lift heavier bags of apples than I. She stood shaking the tree whilst the biggest apples in the history of the world crashed down around me. Just as I warned her that one falling on her head would cause some damage, be careful, an apple the size and weight of a cannonball struck me from behind. How we laughed. If Newton had of nodded off under this tree the laws of physics would have been a lot different.
plaintive bleat kept on, and on, and on.
The sight of the chainsaw soon inspired him to find his own way out. Coward!