Red in Tooth and Claw

I finally met the old man through whose garden one of our favourite footpaths meanders. What a poppet. His brown face shone with smiles, and he was eager to chat. He told me that the plantation of newish trees and the large wheat field - 26 acres in all - belong to "Mr" Grieves at the Old Rectory. That's Patrick to most people, but the caste system prevails long into the 21st century in rural Suffolk, and while the old man would be "Old John" to Patrick, he will always be "Mr" Grieves to John. Ah well. Things be slow to change in them thar country places.

He told me there was a fox problem locally, that he used to have 20-odd hens but they were all taken in one night. He never used to lock them up, but now he and his wife have four rescue hens which have fattened up nicely in six weeks, and they are shut away before it gets dark. The cock is a useless guard: he waits until we have passed by before crowing warningly at the top of his voice. In Sweffling someone lost all their geese to M Reynard, and the lady across the fields who breeds pigs has had enough since some of her piglets were taken in broad daylight. She took her gun to them, watching at 2am while the rest of us slept, and killed four in one night. It's her new hobby apparently. There'll be no foxes left. And then there are the deer which came into John's garden (it IS a public right of way) and stripped the 5-year-old Bramley apple tree that his son had given him. Oh bad wildlife, how could you? I've noticed this garden is overrun with moles: nervous laughter.

I have a problem with the new lawn. It's been colonised by meadow grass and is covered in the stuff with seed heads popping all the time. The man from Sovereign Turf came out this afternoon, and agreed it is a problem. His solution is to kill off the meadow grass, leaving yellow patches until the proper lawn takes over, and failing that to lay an entirely new lawn. Once upon a time I'd have been quite upset about this, but it's not the end of the world. Life is never straightforward so you may just as well get used to it. The end.