En route to see the Minions, I took BeAnne for a walk on the local beach.  At long last she has got the plot with the car dog harness (in her youth, she could wriggle out of it) and will sit quietly in the car, hating every minute.

But the reward makes it worth it.  BeAnne gets to go to the beach with me.

And she does like the beach.

Before we left, I put a couple of tennis balls in my pocket and I became a very good retriever after a while.

Mostly because, although enthusiastic to start with, Her Maj would then quickly lose interest and I would be the one going to fetch the ball.

She has me pretty well trained!

There were a few seabirds about – including a Great Skua (“Bonxie”) who was on his own and mooching around, annoying anyone he could.

We also saw a single gannet (“Solan“).

And a few Artic terns (“Tirrick”)

I was mostly looking for cowrie shells but the tide was too high and I couldn’t get my eye in. They are usually easier to find on a low tide as there is line of little stones to follow.

But I did see goose barnacles. They give me the willies.  Always have.

So BeAnne and I walked up and down the beach enjoying the wind and the waves.  We pretty much had the place all to ourselves.

Obviously the neighbours’ curtains were twitching.

BeAnne tried her best with the tennis balls.

I am the owner of two soggy tennis balls in my coat pocket.

As I write, a not-so-small someone is snoring her head off beside me, though obviously not in her bed as Monster has still not vacated.

She dreams of her intrepid adventures.

I can’t, and possibly won’t, pretend that I forgive this lot for what they did to my poor Old Men (and Klængur).

Here they are mooching about in the little paddock, waiting for Kappi to join them. He had been out for a ride with Daisy.

I also don’t think anyone is particularly sorry for what they did (basically bully the poor Old Men out of their field by barging in and being utterly vile).  There were bites. I saw them. I know who did it.

If any of them imagine that for one minute I will go and see them with my usual pile of carrot peelings and hugs, then they can think again.  I am still cross and will possibly hold my grudge for a while. Their behaviour was unforgiveable.

I would like the boys to think about what they did.

Though, somehow, I don’t think they will.  Not really.

Meanwhile, the Old Men (and Klængur) are in the next door field where the green grass is, doing what they do best – eating!

And I am not in a forgiving mood.

I called and eventually they arrived.

In dribs and drabs – a drib of Icelandic horses and then a drab of Shetland ponies.

And obviously I had a pocketful of treats.  That goes without saying and is possibly The Law.

There was a slight argument (Tiddles and Waffle).

But the treats dished out and then smiles all round.

It was windy today.

The little and big peoples. Funny to think that Sóley is considered big now – Newt definitely is not.

Everyone looking very well (read fat) but our Shetland winter is drawing in fast so that fat will keep them going when the weather gets bad and I won’t worry about them.  Summer fat is essential for winter survival.

So this lot are all fine together and they will probably spend the winter with each other too. I had been planning on sending Lilja and Sóley back to their mother, Hetja, now Sóley is weaned but that is probably not going to happen.

My plans are always changing.

I came downstairs one night to find this……. in OH’s sofa spot.  It was all a bit creepy.

BeAnne has gone off her various assortment of beds in the sitting-room (she has three including two vol-au-vents and a cave) so, being nice, I brought in her big bed from my shed as she always love to sleep in that. I wanted her to be comfortable during the day and, after careful thought and consideration, I placed it next to my desk so we could be near each other.

Of course, BeAnne instantly took a loathing to her bed.

And then Monster found it.

And promptly made it his own.

BeAnne sat alone, looking miserable and hard done by and of course I felt awful because that is what I do best.

This is one hard-done-by Bottom of Misery and with added tucked-in-tail of Despair.

Monster was in his Heaven.  He has barely left BeAnne’s bed.

So I tried again and booted Monster out, put BeAnne back in and, of course, the bed has now become the one place BeAnne loathes and will never go near.

Me?  Well, I have given up!

The other day Lambie was dithering about coming into my shed. We were playing flute trios with a friend. Lambie wasn’t sure as he didn’t know one of the flautists very well so we left the door open (it was cold, thank you Lambie) and he couldn’t make his mind up while we simultaneously played and froze to death.  And if I shut the door, he would butt it.

Today, when I got home from checking the Minions, I heard the sound of a hoover in the house, so I beat a swift retreat to my shed and decided to practice my flute.  Lambie promptly came in to listen.

BeAnne went to sleep.

And then the hooverer, Daisy, who had now finished, came to join us too.

We played flute duets together, like you do with a sheep standing beside you. This is our normal now.

And then Monster appeared and it swiftly became a family affair

Monster – “Please stop playing, please never make this noise again. Pleeeeeeeze!”

Lambie was very happy in my shed. He wouldn’t let anyone else come in or out.

We went on fluting and he sat down.

I won’t say Lambie is fat but he is a bit fat.

And then it got odd.  ‘Ster wanted in so we all left and I gave Monster and BeAnne their tea.

Because that’s how we roll in our Shire!