Not Sheep

I've been fascinated by this view for the last month. Having first seen the white objects as sheep, I realised almost instantly that they were white plastic wrapped hay bales on a meadow at Hurst Farm. It was a very bright, sunshiny morning.

The bullocks that had been in the neighbouring field for months have suddenly all gone. I wonder if they've been despatched to the abattoir.

I was returning from having delivered Basil to his new groomer who lives near Pillings Lock just south of Loughborough. I had hoped that I could go to the café there for breakfast but a young lady passing by said it had been closed since being flooded last year. It is slated to re-open.

Len and I went to fetch Basil after midday and I drove to The Outwoods, where Basil raced here and there, relieved to be rid of his warm coat.

Len and I enjoyed latte and ice cream.