How lovely it is to lie, snug in bed, and listen to the weather roar outside. The rain lashes against the house and a gust of wind from the east whistles under the eaves from time to time. The window is slightly ajar - wide enough to let in air but not enough to let in too much of that wicked weather. All of me is warm and cosily tucked up. I've a book to read; Wolf Hall which has, amongst all things promised on the cover, a most soporific effect. All is well in my bed-time world.
But what is that raucous din that breaks the night air? It is a shed-full of young cattle bawling just the other side of the garden wall, that's what. I think they have been brought to over-winter here and their assorted mothers have stayed elsewhere. They have been weaned. It is a heart rending noise - and one I've written about before. They'll settle down and get used to being in this strange place without the reassuring presence of their mums.
I've just been across to see them and they are mostly quiet now. Though wary at first, their nosiness soon overcame any fear of a fool with a camera and they jostled and snorted to get a better look. We had a few words along the lines of 'Shh. No more of that noise tonight.'
I got a moo or too by way of answer. That's a 'Yes' then?