Shepherding for Prostrate Cancer

I discovered a little of what life must be like as a sheepdog. It's hard work. I was volunteered by Forrest to lead a sponsored charity walk on the moor. It had been organised by a member of the cricket club whose husband has recently recovered from a prostrate scare. The idea was to raise awareness as well as money to support research. A few days ago the forecast was for snow this morning, for the precise hours we would be on the moor, and so it turned out, the snow starting to fall almost exactly on cue. The age profile of those who came along was a lot younger than I expected, mostly with totally inappropriate footwear and no idea what they had let themselves in for. It was quite comical to see so many shiny clean pairs of fashion trainers on show as we left the train station. What were they thinking?

Perhaps I should have had a bad weather alternative, but my mind doesn't work like that. There was no dispensation made for the snow-covered, waterlogged ground, which meant that I soon had people spread out all over the moor, disappearing ahead, and behind in the thick mist, as well as occasionally down in the bog. Despite the confusion and the very cold feet, everyone seemed to enjoy the experience. Full credit to them all for making the effort and turning out for a very worthwhile cause. And especially to Wendy for making it all happen.

I had to make a rapid exit at the end to catch a train to go hear another Wendy - Wendy Cope - read some of her poems in Halifax. She was wonderful. It was a day then of Wendys and stark contrasts.

Thanks everybody for all the love bestowed upon John Greenwood. I was quite taken aback by the reaction. I will get a print made and use that as an excuse to go visit so I can deliver it to him. It seems like you want to hear his stories every bit as much as I do.