Saturday 17th February 2018, 2.00pm (day 2,368)
I was keen to get out for some exercise today. It seemed also that I had duties, previously unsuspected, as an object of worship for the sheep of Cumbria — on two separate occasions a flock of them followed me for some minutes. It was like a game of ‘Mr Wolf’: when I turned around and looked at them they stopped — looking (appropriately) sheepish — but then returned to follow in my footsteps when I walked on. I kept telling them I had nothing to give them. Strangely, I don’t think they understood.
Being 42 