There I was on my hands and knees cutting back the long grass around the newly flowering cyclamen and other plants in my tiny wild area, when a little frog clambers up in front of me - with only one leg - and bits of innards hanging out! Doomed it was. Doomed! And I'd done it! I ran hurried indoors to find Better Half and plead with him to DOO SOMETHING! But by the time we returned the little froggie had struggled away to die alone. I am mortified!
I always make lots of noise and bash stuff around to get frogs and mice and things into the open. This is the first time - I think - I've actually slaughtered anything. Any ideas of anything more I could have done?
(The leg is still lying on edge of the lawn - hopefully BH will remove it for me!)
Last weekend, in Rutland, the first statue in Britain of the late Elizabeth II was unveiled.