Before the Bun-Scare, I had spent three days here at the vineyard, awash in my own space. Only animals to look after. My list of things to do was attended to. I paid bills that had been languishing and actually sorted out my tax for this year, which took me more than half a day. …
I trust you have read my own personal version of Bill Bryson’s A Walk In The Woods. Because then you’ll remember how I wrote: “…a weird little rash beginning on my abdomen – presumably the bite of a forest dwelling transitory tick summoning me toward a career in Lyme disease.” Which was incorrect. I do …