OK, so if today was anything to go by, the anti-buzzard hat may be losing some of its effectiveness. ASBO buzzard was waiting for me at Buzzard corner on its favourite telegraph pole, already glaring at me and calling. Once more it took the shortcut as I puffed up the hill and glared at me again from the top, and although it didn’t quite swoop, I think it made its feelings fairly clear. It also escorted me on the way back, possibly to make sure I left the premises. Combined with the fact that the anti-buzzard hat more of a winter hat (I haven’t worn it since June) and extremely sweaty, I may have to take desperate measures to be safe. If you do see me in a helmet, it’s only because of the buzzard, I swear.
On the other hand, it does add that little frisson of uncertainty back into my trips to the papershop now that the temporary traffic light has gone. Who says life in the country is dull?