No, ducks aren't running riot in some sort of paddling marathon. Loose is where I live, and today is the day of the annual duck race when hundreds of yellow plastic ducks bob competitively along the Brooks Stream (that's it on the left; pretty isn't it?) to the noisy delight of children and adults alike. Except that today, as I write, it's pouring with rain and winds are so high they can't get the refreshments marquee up. I've been up since six, baking the cakes I foolishly promised to donate when full of wine and bonhomie in the local pub at Christmas (these things are planned well in advance you know).
I also have my orders from our leader, the venerable Roy Hood. Tanya and I must allocate the even numbered ducks and Sean will do the odd. I'm not quite sure why this is, but orders are orders. Must leave now as I need to find my wet weather gear.
I also have my orders from our leader, the venerable Roy Hood. Tanya and I must allocate the even numbered ducks and Sean will do the odd. I'm not quite sure why this is, but orders are orders. Must leave now as I need to find my wet weather gear.
Full race report, the runners and the riders etc, will be posted later, after I've dried off.
2 comments:
Hi Catherine, just stopped by to tell you that I love the name of your blog.
Hi Kanak. I think Terra Farmer is pretty good too! I'm trying to keep up with writing the blog but actually building the garden is taking up most of my time at the moment. I really must try harder...
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