Poor Mr Digger has a few extra hazards to cope with at Rock HQ. As if its not dangerous enough leveling parts of the Bonsai Mountain today he has been fending off Geisha our confused Anglo Nubian who has come into season, so anything male will do. Seeing as Mr Digger is a new pair of trousers to bother he has had the full treatment which includes provocatively poohing on the floor in front of him For some reason he refrained from rubbing his head in it like a Billy would. She also did the goat equivalent of the dance of the seven veils, rubbed herself enticingly over his Land Rover and when that all failed she tried to headbutt him.
Then their are the ramblers. Two went through the other day holding their noses rather pointedly, indicating the fresh farmyard smell he had found digging in the horse muck heap was not to their liking. Then today as we were hanging the new gates, one the entrance to the corral, the other a gateway to what will be steps up to the reservoir, above the racket of the power tools a distinct "Ahem" from over our shoulders. Two elderly but jovial walkers clutching a map were stood patiently waiting for the noise to subside. Mr Digger turned the volume down on the drill. Is it alright to use the path they enquired. Yes it is, we replied. They waited. Its over there, Mr Digger helpfully pointed with his massive tool towards the hormone laden goat guarding the lane. They ran the gauntlet of goat. We continued with our endeavours. I considered how much a sign would cost directing the future clueless towards the right path, or would it be more entertaining finding starving walkers trapped in the corral having mistaken the small gate, which is the same as many found on the Offas Dyke trail as the true way.
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