Harold’s well-known organic farmer, Ted Evans regrets locking up his stable last Friday , after his horse was startled by an oddly-shaped carrot and galloped off, in what seemed to be a bid for free-range status.
“It were wicked cold on Friday night, well below minus 10 in fact.” says Evans “When I let the dogs out the next morning, I found old Lucy frozen solid to the concrete, just inches away from her heated stall. I could even see faint hoofy scratch marks on the stable door and her little nose was still stuck to the handle.”
“It’s no use getting upset though.” Evans sobbed, absent mindedly mopping up a pail of milk he’d just knocked over.
The farmer’s day went from bad to worse however, when his worn corduroys fell down, having split at the waist. “I wish I’d made time to pop a stitch in them.” he said ruefully.
“Now if you’ll excuse me, I must nip over to the incubat,or and see how many chickens we’ve got. I always count them at this stage. After they hatch they run around all over the place and it’s impossible to keep track.