One raised for its’ wool mind you
Most days when I finish work I take a stroll in the bucolic splendour which surrounds the hamlet in which I live.
I pass this pretty meadow which has a delightful stream bubbling through it. In this meadow live a flock of sheep who always seem thoroughly contented with their lot. They spend their day sitting eye-balling passers by and chomping on the lush green grass which grows in the meadow.
Not for them trying to ascertain where crazy cable is going to career off to next, or fretting about the next totally unexpected tape-bomb as some loose-lipped official lets rip.
No, a sheep will do just fine for me. Best I get practicing
Baaa Baaa Baaa……..
Ummmm, not half bad for a first attempt.