So, you know how when you’re digging in the garden and you find an old marble, an army figure, or sometimes even an old bottle cap, you congratulate yourself quietly, muttering something like “Good show old boy” to yourself. Well, I’ve spent the past week digging up the farm kitchen garden, and besides the odd brick (I know, who buries that sort of thing?) and handfuls of weeds, I’ve come across not a whole lot. Rather disappointing I know, but such is life. You soldier on.
Today was different. Today I found something. Today I found a couple of things. Bones. That’s right, bones. How very curious.
Oh, I’m sure there’s a very obvious and innocent explanation…
(As you can no doubt deduce from the banality of some of these posts, I have very little happen to me everyday. Well, not so much not happen as just stuff you can hardly base entire blog posts on happen. You can only go on about squirrels for so long before people just switch right off. Am I right here folks? I mean bones, that’s big stuff. Right?)