My sheep has arrived!!!
New readers will need to understand that I have ordered a whole sheep from the organic farm on the Marquess of Cholmondeley's estate.
I move in these circles, you see.
A Land Rover draws up outside, and I bound to the door. It is, as expected, a man in wellies carrying a box of sheep. Presumably this is the Marquess of Cholmondeley. He seems a very nice chap if not as well spoken or well dressed as I thought he would be.
It is all neatly vacuum packed, and he explains which bit is which (chops, legs, neck etc). I grin at him enthusiastically and try to engage him in some interesting discourse, but he disappears off quite hurriedly. I expect he has an important vote in the House of Lords.
As I gaze at my purchase I feel a big stab of guilt in my heart. The box of meat is still quite warm and suddenly I am seized with remorse for this lost sheep.
I try to revive it, but with no success.
Miserably, I start to pack the freezer.