You join me in the middle of a large field on a Saturday morning. Nippy, isn’t it? There is a light but persistent drizzle. If sunny intervals are coming in from the west, as faithfully promised, then they are jolly well taking their time about it.
‘What do you think of this one?’ says Mr Dear.
His friend Mike plods over. ‘Nah,’ he says. ‘I wouldn’t bother with that one. Are you sure you won’t have a turn, Rosie?’
‘Thank you, but I’m quite happy here in charge
