Thursday, 17 February 2011
Soon after building work on the pigsty began, I fell ill. Joe had it first: a burning head, temperature, a listlessness that was so not him. But as he recovered, I came down with it. Missed all the fun outside. We still don't have the pig, but we do have the sty, yet I missed all of it.
I want to talk about Bertie, but not now. Not today. We buried him next to the sty where we found snowdrops flowering. New life for old.
Miss you, Bertie.