She had noticed over the far side of the land another structure going up. She has been too busy with guests etc, with planning the next chapter of her book etc, to take that much notice. And it's been so windy lately she hasn't had much inclination to walk over and take a closer look. When she questioned Beloved he just muttered about another feed store. Of course the maize is growing now and Mr Handsome has been going back and forth with great loads of hay. It seemed reasonable that there had to be somewhere else to put it all. She was just a bit puzzled that the building was so large; and so very tall.
On Friday Mr Handsome from Blackburn came in and said "I've finished it. It's ready.' He obviously thought he was talking to Beloved, but Beloved had gone out a moment or two earlier, so all he got was Granny. 'Finished what?' she asked. Mr Handsome looked taken aback. 'Um ah. The foodstore,' he said. 'I hope you're going to stain it,' Granny said. 'All that yellow wood. It's an eyesore at the moment.' 'It'll get stained alright,' Mr Handsome replied. 'The sooner the better then,' said Granny.
That was Friday. On Saturday she was surprised to see Mr Handsome appear again; he doesn't usually come to work on Saturdays. 'Oh there are just some jobs we need to finish before next week,' said Beloved when Granny asked him. In retrospect he was looking shifty - as he might well have done, he OUGHT to have done. But again she didn't have to time to reflect on it; Saturday is her day for going north, to the organic market, she was late already, so off she went. Though she did think while she drove that this huge foodstore, so-called, was a very odd business and she would question Beloved more closely when she got back home.
As usual she arrived back with her car full of produce. Though Mr Handsome's van stood in the drive, Beloved's truck was not to be seen. She assumed they must have gone out somewhere to buy materials. She humped the shopping in and dumped it on the table. Only then then did she look out of the window, across the land and see that the truck wasn't absent after all; it was parked on the far side next to the hideous new 'food-store'. And that Beloved and Mr Handsome were there too, one on either side of a large something, not far off the colour of the new building, pushing and pulling at it. An alive large something; an animal large something. A donkey? Much too big for a donkey....'A camel,' she shrieked.
Wind or no wind, she was out there immediately. The camel still had not been coaxed into the putative food-store; Beloved and Mr Handsome were still pushing and pulling. Beautiful Wimp was barking and barking from his kennel, Tiresome Terrier, yelping furiously, was taking little nips at the camel's enormous feet and taking no notice whatever of Beloved yelling at her. From the shed next door all three goats were bleating; Damien-Daphne, the cockerel was crowing lustily somewhere out of sight. As Granny approached, the camel had had enough. It raised its head and kicked, hard; Tiresome Terrier went flying; not that Granny minded much about that, given her views on the Tiresome Terrier. But she did mind about the camel.
'What the hell are you up to?' She yelled. (Actually she was ruder than that - much ruder - but she won't sully your eyes with what she actually did say.)
Beloved, still holding onto the camel turned round and said, with the small but guilty smirk he acquires on such occasions. 'What about the maize? You know we've got to grind it. You said there was no way you'd do it, even if I got you a millstone.'
Granny glared at him. 'Why should I want a millstone?' she asked. 'I've got one millstone already.'
'What am I supposed to do then? Camels are what they used to use here, for threshing and grinding. So I bought a camel.'
Mr Handsome was grinning and grinning away behind him; trying at the same time to keep a safe distance from the camel's feet. Tiresome Terrier's wounded yelps were dying away. The camel looking down its nose, the way camels do, sneering especially - she felt - at the furious Granny, proceeded to urinate, copiously.
'By the way,' added Beloved, dodging the stream. 'You always like our animals to have names. I thought you'd be pleased that this one comes with a name, already. It's called Abdul.'
******
UPDATE
Possibly, just possibly, the date heading on this post might have alerted you...UPDATE
Even her much loved Beloved wouldn't dare go this far.....but Granny had fun imagining how he might have done. She will now get ready to DUCK in case of any missiles hurled - virtually - by maddened blogger readers...
April 2nd has arrived, luckily. From now it will be, as far as she or anyone is able, the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. Cheers, possums.
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