"Bychristboywhatyougotintherehestinks" is not the usual greeting from The Oracle as he helpfully opened the gate to the world for me this evening, but then again its not usual that I transport a biohazard, who minutes before had been leaving has mark on Rock HQ. Boris is now high on a hill with another lonely goat herd (theres several reasons why lonely, the smelly lethal weapon is the main, being mildly eccentric is the other) who with her cow girl sister (the cows were nowhere to be seen, but they had cows, the evidence of their being was everywhere, either that or they had giant rabbits with stomach upsets)greeted mine and Boris' arrival with a series of screeches of delight that made me think that they didn't get many visitors and that should there be a third screecher all that was required to complete the scene was pointy hats and a cauldron. With their "expert" advice it only took 53 attempts to reverse the trailer through the gateway in the pitch black and as I unloaded Boris, who suddenly became all clingy and refused to leave my side, into view illuminated by Hazel's rear lights ran 50 or so goats of the female persuasion. Suddenly less clingy Boris departed for a night of lecherous debauchery. As I had handed his lead to one of the cackling duo she departed too while the remaining eccentric told me their life story, key features being an orphan donkey, it only drinking goat milk, buying a milk goat, and the rest as they say (or cackle) is history. They have over 50 goats of various calibre now and a very fat elderly donkey.