In between heavy rain (again) and efforts to avoid excessive calories (yes the holiday is over, the return to meagre rations is compulsory so forget all the chocs that are still lurking in the recesses of the pantry) some work actually got done. Outside on the ranch pork was rescued from the all pervasive sogginess by liberal applications of fresh straw. This was so appreciated by Pam the psycho mangalitza that she actually tolerated my presence, handy considering she was between me and the dry bedding, and let me fondle her piglets. The entente cordial ended when yours truly stepped on a piece of bedding that shrieked like a shrieky thing on a shrieky day which prompted an attempt by mummy pig to eviscerate the clumsy bedmaker. In the confined space between mentalist pigmother and freedom there was no room for pleasantries and as yer pig is basically a hierarchical animal order was restored by gripping Pam behind ear Vulcan style and mentioning that any further attempt to kill the bucket carrier would result in an abundance of sausages. Once everyone was calm the rest of the herd applauded their leader (me) and gratefully accepted the new beds. After taking a second standing ovation I left them to their rummaging and wrestled a pony.
Will.I.Am destroyed his last coat in a few days so a more substantial version has been acquired for him. As said coat does not come with instructions but does come with 32 metres of straps, 76 assorted buckles, clasps, press studs and various lengths of Velcro it only took 46 minutes to work out which was the front, a further 7 to turn it the right way up and 22 more to finish trussing him like a turkey. I think the Emperor was happy with his new clothes, and even happier when I untied his legs enough so he could walk to his breakfast.