Dancing on the Goat Shed Roof

Yesterday morning the sun shone. No, really, it did. To be honest I should have stayed in the house making costumes for small woodland folk,stars of 'a play what I wrote' for the local kids drama group. However, abandoning all sense of responsibility  towards the youth of today, I donned grubby overalls and ridiculous Nordic hat with plaits and went out to play in the sunshine.
At some point over the summer friend and pub landlord Keith provided me with a very large tarpaulin which I threw somewhat unceremoniously over the roof of the goatshed. This meant that my poor girls didn't have to spend half the night shuffling around trying to find a dry spot in which to sleep. However, I did the whole thing so badly that it became extraordinarily problematical just trying to get the stable doors closed at night and on windy days I could here the damn thing flapping ominously. I had visions of the entire thing taking wing and my roof along with it. So yesterday, inspired by the unusual brightness of the sky and lack of precipitation I decided to resolve the issue.

It must have provided considerable entertainment for the rest of the village. Middle aged woman in overalls and silly hat trudges up to the goat shed carrying step ladder. Middle aged woman then props step ladder against the door of the milking parlour, clambers up step ladder  and wriggles onto the roof of said milking parlour. Spinning on her belly like a geriatric break dancer she then reaches down and drags step ladder up behind her. There follows an hour of  traipsing across a leaf strewn(and therefore slippery) roof, tugging and dragging a slimy and very heaving tarpaulin back and forth in endless tiny increments. Every now and then this demented figure would disappear down behind  the goat shed from whence would issue screams, groans and filthy language as she slipped and slid on 7 years of leaf mulch laid over a nearly vertical slate cliff.

I am pleased to report that my efforts were successful and the tarpaulin is now secured and access to the goat shed unimpeded by folds of multicoloured canvas. Only one person has been courageous enough to comment on yesterdays antics, politely enquiring as to whether or not I planned to make a habit of dancing on the goat shed roof. I would like to be able to say that my retort was both witty and instantaneous. It wasn't. But it was short.

Today I plan to keep a low profile and plant yet more damn bulbs before they actually start to flower......