silly moo's 00:46:31 on Friday, July 10 2009

I was going to write yesterday, when the cool still night air was filled with the bleak and incessant sounds of the neighbours at the bottom of the garden.  But what to say?  To tell you that the cows were bleating (mooing) extra loudly.  And?  So?

Hardly the makings of a blog post really! 

But having chosen to spare you last night, I can't resist sharing the tale (or tails) that unfolded.

It was unusual - and seemed weird - that the peacefulness of yesterday evening was so disturbed and I wondered why.  What was troubling the creatures - were they just talking - why so loud?  I was online late last night, and chatting to another before I went to bed I was informed that the cause of the noise was that the cows had been straying - and one had to be rescued from the roundabout on the A21.  I went to bed and thought little more of it.

In the wee small hours, slipping in and out of slumber, I heard the cows calling some more.  I woke this morning to something of a surprise.  Teddy, aged four, my neighbour-but-one had reported to his mummy that out of the window he had seen cows in a garden. 

"where?" asked Kate (mum)

"the garden next door to Gwen" he replied. 

"Alex's garden??" 

"No, the next one along."  And sure enough in my neighbours garden were NINE, no less, brown cows, making a heck of a racket and stumbling amongst the plants and meandering along the terrace.  Pots were upturned and the garden table was on its side.  I went down to the end of my garden where just a low picket fence divides us, and said hello to the giants.  They were clumsy and confused. 

Before long Andrew and Will and others from the farm appeared, I gave a couple of them access through the cottage to get behind their herd, and they gradually and eventually got them back to the bottom of the garden, across the stream and back to the field from where they had come.   

The animals have just been weaned (or not!) and their trespassing action is due to them searching to find Mum.  They have since been relocated to pastures new to settle, so I needn't (I hope) worry about visitors to spring cottage garden tonight!

I guess you had to be there to see it - but if you were, believe you me, you would have laughed so much.  I did.  Silly moo's! 

 Al

(Teddy I don't doubt, will have relished recounting the excitement to his class at the village school this morning.  And Sue's garden will recover - no major damage - thank heavens!)

human kindness 00:36:05 on Thursday, July 2 2009

Laughing, but sincerely, I pleaded with them to please accept a small gesture of thanks for their enormous kindness - but they would not give in. 

Dad had lost his mobile phone on the Cuckoo Trail amidst a busy day of organising a charity sponsored walk.  We did, eventually track it down - it had been recovered by a couple out biking and they had taken it on their travels, intending to hand it in at the nearest police station.  After calling and speaking to them on said-phone I arranged to meet them a few miles away to collect it.... in so doing I thanked them immensely, invited them back to the charity "cream tea" and tried to persuade them to accept (on behalf of Dad) a thank-you gesture that would suffice to buy them a couple of thoroughly well-earned drinks. 

They wouldn't hear of it.  Absolutely not.  Try as I might I lost!  They instead suggested that it should be contributed to the fundraising we were doing that day.  Their kindness and generosity was inspiring. 

Too often we can get lost in the "what's in it for me" side of life, and so too can we become cynical about "what's in it for them".  It's always a pleasant surprise to be reminded that whatever else might be hanging around, there is goodness, honesty and selflessness out there.  It's not just big acts of human kindness that count.  The little ones are equally (in some ways more so) important and valuable.

Al