The sequel with guest appearance of...

three ruddy ducks.

Carding Mill Valley is a favourite of ours, magnificent scenery and the wide open spaces allow Covid-free passing places.  What is there not to like?

As we puffed up a hill there hanging in a tree was a pom-pom.  Never missing a thing my eagle eye spied the aforesaid ball of wool blowing in the wind.  Looking round to see if no one was about I casually strolled over to inspect with my  ‘Hello, hello, hello what’s going on ‘ere?’ cape, not dissimilar from the bobbies cycling attire of the fifties and sixties. This item of apparel I don when the investigative mood takes me. The mood I ought to say takes me to the strangest of places...  This forlorn multi-coloured answer to the real things wandering by with their lambkins just a rolag away had a message of that I was very sure?  And right enough there it was...

Hopefully you can read it?

To start with I hung it in the college entrance thinking that it would be gone in a trice.  No chance!  After two days the suspension as it where, was killing me so I moved it just inside of the allotments.  Maybe my fellow plot holders channelling their inner Percy Thrower would spot it and enter into the spirit of things?  Still waiting!

Three ducks the local ménage a trois have been hanging about, one drake puffed up and feeling important, the other pretty quacked oft!?!  Six webbed feet landed without ceremony onto our glass roof giving us quite a Duck a l’orange turn.  As they processed onto the roof of the Wrenery I quietly with feather duster spear crept Zulu like to the door.  A quick shove up the third ducks departing jacksie was enough to ‘temporarily’ bring their nest-hunting expedition to a speedy conclusion.  With my bosom heaving with a ‘job well done turn-of heave’ I flopped back into my recliner.  Minutes later the six webbed feet descended onto the fence, their nonchalance hung in the air for the nano second it took me to launch myself from prone to 60 feathers a minute in 0.2 seconds.  Feather duster AND angry whoops accompanied this their second foray.

Their third and final attempt saw me pawing the ground, steam escaping from my nostrils I galloped down the path in hot pursuit.

‘Duck off!  If I catch you, your next appearance will be on my wall!’. I cried my dander well and truly  up.