I've just spent a lovely couple of days driving up the M5M4M42A46, seeing my best friend and her baby, and then driving back again. (I include the driving since much of the visit is spent doing that; 5 hours there and 4.5 back.)

Sigh.

Why is Lincoln so far away from me? And more importantly why does she live there when it is?

Anyway, today we all went to Rand Farm Park for a jolly Easter holiday jaunt which would a/entertain Harry, b/entertain us and c/allow us to push a 6 week old baby around in a buggy for a bit without waking her up. (We were going to see The Cat In The Hat, but it hasn't hit Lincoln yet, Lincoln being the epitome of uber provinciality.)

It didn't matter though because the farm was ace.

There was a stroppy donkey who kicked the bars of his pen everytime you fed any animal other than him.

And there were lambs!

We fed them!



Bless.

But best of all was a red deer doe called Heidi who had been hand-reared, and who, (it said on the information sign) 'liked coats and hats.'

Well, 'good on her' is what I say. So do I.