The footpath went through a field with a large flock of goats.
'Itll be alright.'
But as we entered the field they pricked up their heads and began to canter towards us in a tight mass.
Not knowing what goats do when they catch up with you, I performed a vertical take off over a gate into the next field where I waded rapidly uphill through waist high thistles until I deemed it safe to get back on the path.
Hahaha.
This year I was to camp again with Perran. Belatedly I realised I had booked in one of the few places in the country where there are wild goats - near Cheddar Gorge.
'Great!'
Obviously he was hoping to get another story out of this, and I was hoping he didn't. This time I would be brave.
As we walked around Cheddar Gorge, my eyes were peeled for goats. However there was a lot of goat poo but no goats. Until we got almost back to the car, and then finally I saw them, three goats grazing.
'Look,' I said to Perran, 'There are goats and I'm perfectly calm.'
'Yes, Mum, that's so. But they are on the opposite side of the gorge.'
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