Back to nature Holmes

Close encounters with the animal kingdom are common place here at Rock HQ. Some encounters are unwanted, like incursions from vermin Mr Fox, who incidentally is calling for a mate as I type (lucky it is a) dark and b) I lack long range firepower) and others are very unexpected, as in the case of this common lizard found in the wash basket today. Poor chap or chappess has lost the best part of its tail and is growing a replacement.

This is not the only close encounter today.

As I walked the Berners I pondered life's questions, uppermost on my mind was why had my ever so expensive and supremely comfortable walking boot, right side only, failed to fit properly since Monday. Monday morning it was fine, Monday pm as I went to do the rounds my toes were scrunched up, like there was a sock stuffed in the toe cap. A quick check, nothing fell out as I shook it, I moved the insole, nothing, still slightly uncomfortable I did my chores and retired. Over the last few days its felt odd, but getting better, it was a prompt to get wellies, after all a £15 pair of wellies worn out is a better option than wrecking my walking boots all the time.

So in today's glorious sunshine the pieces of puzzle milled around my brain until a picture formed.

My right sock had been dirtier the last few days, the boot was fitting better but still not right, therefore Mr Watson I deduce that a well aimed shot by a sheep had placed a deposit in my right boot.

Well done Holmes, and I stopped in the track and removed right boot.

Dirty sock, evidence Watson, if any more evidence is needed remove insole.

Why yes, Holmes, a layer of black muck on insole.

Solved, scraped muck off on leaf and reinsert insert. Foot replaced.

Er Holmes, its still there.

Of course it is Watson, its simply fallen under the insole when you first moved it last Monday!

By Jove! Holmes, a master class!

So yours truly pushed hand to end of boot and began scraping the warm contents out, as it was just pooh I wasn't going to make a fuss.

I'm not sure at which point I dropped the boot and screamed like a girly.

Probably when the legs followed the tail and there adhered to my eager fingers was the gooey remains of a very mushy mouse.

With toe impressions.

Thanks vermin cats.

I love you too.