Keep fit

Confusion reigns amongst the Ryelands as their intensive training programme to stop them poohing on the doorstep continues. The food trough has been moved to the end of the "barn" along the lane. Ryelands who are at times the laziest brand of sheep like to snooze as close to their food source as possible which means they have to forgo the luxury of the yard and sleep under the trees in the lane.

This is causing them problems. Like Pavlov's dog they instantly start drooling when they see any food stimuli, in their case a bucket. They, not being entirely devoid of brain settle under the trees still in sight of the cottage and when they see yours truly enter the yard carrying bucket they complete the 100metres in a time that would put Usain Bolt to shame. They then blunder around looking for the trough, staring at the ground where it used to be, by the time they spot me, the dedicated bucket bearer I am half way down the lane to where the trough now is. This leads to a new 100metre dash where they gather where they should and devour their organic breakfast.

Halfway through one invariably looks up and spots their saviour and protector ambling back up towards the cottage singing to himself and generally minding his own business. This sparks a panic, as the sacred bucket is leaving them and without fail they run back up the lane to the yard, albeit this time slower to stand where the trough was looking at the ground expectantly. As they all check the bucket is empty one exceptionally bright Ryleand remembers that they have left a breakfast unattended and they peel off single file puffing and blowing the fat ones at the back back to claim it. This happens twice a day, morning and afternoon.

They all seem happy enough though, especially Sandy, and the doorstep is definitely cleaner. How can they be miserable living here? What with all the fresh air, exercise and good food its like a holiday camp!