While David and I were engaged in yet more fencing, the pigs were busy on their clear up operation out on the open Forest.
Théoden is not pointing out where our attention needs to turn next, but pointing at the sheer pinkness of the eleven pigs rooting about just outside. Incidentally, the fence was fixed.
Henrietta was almost transfixed...
I always appreciate an opportunity to sing the tune to 633 Squadron.
Almost finished...
