At this time of year the geese have been fat, and have been under the executioners knife, for quite some time and I can imagine the beastly farmers have been out there every morning pretending to be Sir Cliff and singing in some awful yokel voice something like "mistletoe and wine, that fat goose is mine..." for the last month or so. Tragic, but true!
In my little corner of the world I've been more concerned with whether I've got enough coal and wood to see me through this, the most festive of seasons. If I haven't, then the dogs and cat are in danger of providing me with some warmth! That said, the guinea pig looks the most likely to fit on a spit on the roaring fire!
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment