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Old boy on the plot grabbed me by the earlobe earlier - he has a bee in his bonnet about rabbit ingress on the site and blames me for allowing a gateway to be made between two bits of the site that cut through a rabbit proof fence. (not that there are wabbits on the site... yet)
"Lookee here - bleddy wabbits" he says pointing a gnarly finger at a hole under one of his pots...
"Hmmmn" says I. "Now, I'm no blasted Cuniculturalist, but there b'ain't no wabbit poop here so that b'ain't no wabbit hole - and you seem to have many a bombus/bombini here"
"Blast yer eyes lad" says the old chap.
"Alright, step lightly along with me to this adjacent plot good sir - for tis obvious that the virago that tills here has a similar issue - and you can clearly see the marks left by the efforts of Meles meles..." and the bees...
He was quite discombobulated.
It was a good day.
Less so for the bees.
"Lookee here - bleddy wabbits" he says pointing a gnarly finger at a hole under one of his pots...
"Hmmmn" says I. "Now, I'm no blasted Cuniculturalist, but there b'ain't no wabbit poop here so that b'ain't no wabbit hole - and you seem to have many a bombus/bombini here"
"Blast yer eyes lad" says the old chap.
"Alright, step lightly along with me to this adjacent plot good sir - for tis obvious that the virago that tills here has a similar issue - and you can clearly see the marks left by the efforts of Meles meles..." and the bees...
He was quite discombobulated.
It was a good day.
Less so for the bees.
Don't understand North Devon twang.
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