this little bastard. he went missing a week ago, and for love nor money, we could not find him. tore the garden asunder. little prick had decided our hospitality clearly wasn't good enough and had climbed six foot up through the ivy over the garden wall and had fallen in next door. we've renamed him paul newman. he only has three legs, so fair fucks to the little guy.latest arrival. i call him hank, but my wife did a lottery for friend's kids and friends of hers to name him, and somehow came up with mark hedges figgis, so his name is hank.
he only has three legs, cos someone hit him with a strimmer or lawnmower, and i think he's still a little spaced out from the painkillers after the op.
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I live out in the sticks and it's a constant presence but funnily enough during lockdown when there wasn't even the ambient noise of cars a few hundred yards away it really sprang to life for me. Heard a cuckoo for the first time ever around here, that was exciting.In my new house there's a symphony of different bird song when we open the doors in the morning, it's fucking glorious.
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