Why Sheep Bleats?

Question – Why blog?
Answer – Why not? After all words are a refreshing change from bleats, and during lambing, bleats are about all I hear being fairly well confined to base for the duration – so why not try something different, and for me a blog certainly is different! And while I know, as an aspiring author, there are other pieces of mine that need proofing and completing, they do always say ‘write what you know’ and at the moment ‘I know’ sheep’.. .and I feel that I should not keep all that knowledge to myself … indeed I should inflict my sheep thoughts on to a wider sheep free world – so here are my sheep bleats… sorry, thoughts…
So where did this sheep thing begin? I suppose some nine years ago when I went to the Rare Breeds Sale at Stoneleigh in Warwickshire to buy a pair of ducks. The problem was that I not only bought a pair of ducks, but I also bought a sheep too. Not any old sheep, but one with a name and a pedigree, Weylode Windflower to be precise.
We had a few sheep already. We had moved house fairly recently and found ourselves proud owners of several acres (or rather less hectares as I am now supposed to call them) of water meadows.
However, it was only at this point that my husband said, ‘I’ve no intention of mowing this lot. Why don’t we get some sheep?’
’Fine,’ I said, knowing little of sheep except having some vague memories of bottle feeding a pet lamb called Paddy. Paddy, who turned from a cute tail-wagging lamb, into a head-butting monster, which would charge anyone unwise enough to enter his field and send them flying. But the pain of those landings had been softened by time.