This is the Paddock. It is the most perfect of paddocks. A post and rail fence runs down one side with a hunting gate halfway along. It was from here that the young and inquisitive heifers found their way into the garden and proceeded to eat the schoolchildren's picnic. On the other side are rather tall Christmas Trees. I think St Pauls Cathedral would be the only place big enough to have one of these at Christmas. They are more reminiscent of The Black Forest. But they do afford a lovely degree of shelter from the westerly winds. We are allowed to play in the top part and Dad has put an electric fence around this area so that we can mooch happily around without Mr Fox eating us. There is a gate from this Upper Paddock to the Lower Field. It is about 3 acres and surrounded by ancient oak trees. It is a long way from any road and is just idyllic. There is a Field Shelter in the far corner where the horses used to hide from the flies in the summer. Then the cows used it after the horses were no longer alive. I was going to say no longer with us, but they are in fact all buried in that very field. It was in the days when you could bury cows and horses on your own land - providing it wasn't near a water course and was deep enough. Mum used to sit in that Field Shelter too when she was a pullet. Her Dad had bought her a Saxophone and it was far enough away for her to practise without disturbing anyone! There is an old pear tree down there too, which was a favourite with Mum's first horse, Finn. Harry The Peacock wanders off each morning and picks at the grasses in the Lower Field. Then he heads back towards the yard and if it is sunny stops to preen himself in front of the Christmas Trees. Gordon xxx