Wednesday, 24 April 2013

Dogs Delight 22 Weeding the countryside

   I am imprisoned in the village as surely as Hilary Green, who never leaves its boundaries as she weaves about tearing up groundsel and thistles and stickyweed.  This tidying of the village and the lanes is a serious matter.  Only rarely, after two or three glasses of cider and green ginger in the Lone Gelding snug, does she become skittish, hiding behind the hedge to throw trails of stickyweed at the coats of passers-by.  This exercise must give her some relief, I suppose. 


I have heard newcomers laughing about Hilary, but I consider her sinister.  Perhaps I am afraid that if I do not escape I will one day join her, trailing behind her as she roams around the village, both of us wrapped in woollen garments with grey wisps escaping from our woollen hats, rapt in our vocation.

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