Listening to: Bubble Toes (Jack Johnson)
Eating: pork chop
Watching: world cup rugby and not believing my eyes
I was minding my own business last night, watching France beat the All Blacks, enjoying the warmth of the fire. A couple of pints at the hotel and a decent dinner of Sanday pork chop with all the veg had left me a little dozy and I was dropping off when all hell broke loose.
Spike started yapping his head off and Owen, never one to be left out, joined in enthusiastically. I'm used to the pair of them going off on one, throwing out challenges to the things that go bump in the night and the imaginary lions and tigers that lurk around the croft.
I growled at them to shut up, but by now they were scratching at the door to be let out. With a deep sigh I hauled myself off the sofa and we went out into the hall. Nobody at the front door. I went outside and spotted a transit van turning out of our lane onto the main road.
Odd, I thought, maybe somebody came to the wrong house. But I had a check round just in case they had made off with my shovels.
It was when I went into the barn I noticed the big pile of coal on the floor and, bearing in mind this was about 9pm, realised that when I told the coalman that 'any time that suits you', he had really taken me at my word. Snag is, as it was dark, he failed to notice the nice big coal bunker outside the barn, so it's just as well he didn't nick my shovel.