Despite telling my four feline charges that I knew of several cats who enjoyed a walk with their owners, my plan to yomp across the moors to the village of Minions was met with blank looks from the indolent moggies and I duly set off with my camera, minus the cats.

I arrived at Minions’ shop/post office/tea rooms three minutes before they were due to close, just enough time to buy a take out coffee to enjoy in the sunshine. I was about to pay when I notice the carrot cake being packed into a container, I needed no persuading to buy a slice which I decided to have later!

My path home across the moors ran through the middle of some sheep who scattered in different directions at my approach.  I used my most calming tone of voice to placate them and hoped that they weren’t in lamb.  I carried on, admiring the vivid blue sky as I strode out across the spongy turf, listening to the bleating of the sheep.  There did seem to be a lot of bleating, I looked around and noticed that the ewes had started to follow me.  I stopped, they stopped, I started walking, they followed, their bleats attracting other sheep.  The five ewes were now a dozen and more were joining them!  I stopped again and the growing flock came to a halt eyeing me expectantly. Where they after my carrot cake?!  I held the paper bag containing its precious cargo tighter and carried on, so did they.  Unwelcome mental images of the ewes, having been driven mad by the irresistible scent of cake, popped into my head and I saw myself, from above, being trampled into the ground under a mass of woolly backs!  I broke into a sweat and then into a trot reaching the gate and path that would take me off the moors and out of harms way, in record time. Looking back at the ribbon of pristine, white, fleecy bodies I felt like the Pied Piper of sheep, only with baked goods instead of a wind instrument!

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