Spud the dog provided this weeks photo opportunity without me having to move off the back doorstep.
Here he is, expectantly waiting for Tom, who is up the ladder ( I may add Mr Uhdd is footing the ladder, we’ve had enough accidents of late) to retrieve a large number of tennis balls that are stuck in the gutter of the barn, following ‘over enthusiastic’ throws by the boys (actually more accurately hits rather than throws, as Tom tends to strike the ball with a hockey stick for maximum projection, I personally prefer the winger-dinger but rarely manage a throw of barn roof trajectory, I throw like a girl even with a winger-dinger)
How many can you see up there?
There was some discussion today, after Spud had been rampaging through my flower beds in a desperate search for a ball; that we should make an Internet purchase of 72 tennis balls for the princely sum £60, to keep Spud in his ball habit, and save my flowers, but the proposal was rejected by the keeper of the purse on the grounds it was an extravagant amount of money to end up on the barn roof and that food on the table would be a better use of funds.
more, more, there must be more balls
A plus side of the retrieval of the balls is that rain water can once again flow into the water butt, the garden is on to a winner, more water, less dog