Pigs

On the way down to the Oak that evening I decided it might be best if I do not disclose any of this information to the Doc but instead vow to find an alternative, much better venue, before releasing the true facts. As the evening progressed the usual suspects gathered each with a summer’s adventure to retell; the tastiest being the exploits of the pigs. At the same time as Adele was on holiday in Cornwall they escaped, ingeniously led by ‘Steve McQueen’ the self appointed ‘alpha’ male porker, following their noses to David’s rear garden to feast upon new grassland, create huge swathes with furrows criss-crossing their beautifully sculptured lawned grounds. Once discovered, the pigs fled back to their pen; all but one who sped up the lane in the direction of Haigh hall. David had chased in hot pursuit but when he finally caught up with the well rounded trotter it suddenly keeled over having suffered a massive heart attack, the brute had croaked. The pig was buried the next day with military honours; Adele went ballistic having returned from the holiday to discover a ploughed field instead of a bowling green.  

I, eventually, asked Chris how the project had developed since my absence. I was met with the dreaded, “not much really, I’ve done a bit, but not much because I have had to re-design many of the bits that I had done before, so I’ve been going backwards really; but, Brockies been, he also has recommended some other changes which we need to ‘get our heads around’ before fixing up, I’ve been in touch with Danny but he’s ignored my calls since July. We must get the panels painted plus the tub lifted off; so we had better get a move on if we are to finish the car for the Beaujolais run”. Oh bollocks. We will be travelling to the wrong place for the Beaujolais run but it doesn’t really matter because the car won’t be ready anyway. Welcome back.