Yesterday I had sheepburger for breakfast. And cheese, on a big slice of bread, all of which was eaten standing up in front of an open fire in a field.
I was at work. Well, technically I was then on my break, obviously. I was inspecting 3-week old organic free-range chickens from a farm. The driving instructions went like this: "don't go to the adress on your list, but to (a village 5 km away from the address I was given). There take a right at the bank, and drive up. Take a left turn at the three trees (the actual name of the trees was given, but I wouldn't recognize them, so it is not a big help), then through the woods, and left when you see the first sheep".
Fortunately, the sheep were in an enclosure, so for once I could actually go by this description. I was greeted by five mostly friendly border collies, and the farmer. Ensuing discussion of dogs (with much admiring on both sides) and viewing of adorable 8-week-old border collie puppies, then on to the chickens (which were doing just fine, thank you). Then on to see the sheep with the -equally adorable- 44 lambs born so far this year, with more ensuing discussion on the merits of Suffolk (his) versus Ile-de-France (the kind we have in the village), which led us to the high pasture and on to breakfast with the farm workers (including the 80-year old dad, busy grilling sausages) who were logging. Chilly, but spectacular view, nice baahing sounds from nearby ewes, and romping dogs..
Moments like this make up for all the filling out of formulars.
