Adventures big, adventures small...

‘You may be wondering what I’m doing sat on top of this wall without a care in the world.

Well, this is my wall and I like to sit here watching the world go by waiting for an adventure to arrive. I like adventures, adventures are fun and this wall is a hissing good place to see them coming. Sometimes the adventures are small - like that bee buzzing just over there - and sometimes they are much bigger – like the time that the bull from up the road escaped and came charging down the road followed by three red-faced farmers with ropes and sticks. Hissing fun!

I was once sat here and a big bird swept down and grabbed a mouse that I was thinking about chasing from right under my whiskers. It was a very big bird with a huge, hooked beak. Another time the postman dropped all his letters and had to run after them as the wind tried to blow them up and away – he missed one and I ripped it open. It looked like a bill, whatever a bill is. They can’t be good though, Hisfault is always saying - ‘Not more bloody bills’.

You see all sorts of adventures from up here. The first time I saw the jets they scared me. Well, I heard them before I saw them and… BOOM! Then they were away across the sky with a SSShhhhhing noise. I’m used to them now. So I don’t run up the Holly tree when they fly in unexpectedly waggling their wings and flying much too low.

Sometimes those silly men on those lawnmower engine thingies, held up by big bits of cloth and string, fly overhead like tiny birds. Hisfault says they are puddled and I think that, for once, he’s right (if puddled means the same as kitten-brained). Why would anyone want to fly like a bird, especially in one of those flimsy things? Birds are for catching.

One time a big whirly thing landed in the field behind. Two men carried somebody on a flat thing to the whirly thing and off they flew straight up into the air. I didn’t like the whirly thing; it was noisy and made lots of nasty windies. It hasn’t been back since thank Mu-Mu.

Every now and then sheep come down the lane all white and silly and following each other. The shouty boys make sure all the gates are shut so they can’t run in, but they still try and keep bumping into each other. I like it when the sheep come. I hide in the bushes and jump out at them. It makes them jump around and bleat. I don’t get too close though – sheep can be a bit unpredictable, and they’re a bit pongy.

I wonder what will happen today? What adventure will come down the lane? Will it be a big one or will it be a small one? Will it be a tractor, a dog, the man on the wobbly bicycle, one of those red, floaty, bouncy things, a weasel, the milkman, the woman with the stick and the basket, a circus clown, the fish-man? I wonder, I wonder, I wonder!

All I have to do is sit here and wait, stay alert - eventually an adventure will turn up…’

What is Misty waiting for? She looks like she’s expecting something but I don’t know what. Nothing’s going to happen. It’s always so quiet around here…