It was a lovely day today so I drove into the Berkshire countryside and stopped at an old rural pub for a drink and a meal.
While enjoying a pint I got into conversation with an old guy, he must have been about ninety and the conversation got around to politics and how the unelected Prime Minister was ruining the country.
“Well, you know,” drawled the farmer, “this Brown fella is what they call a fencepost tortoise ’round these parts”
Not being familiar with the term, I asked him what a fencepost tortoise was.
The old farmer said, “When you’re driving along a country road and you come across a fence post with a tortoise balanced on top, that’s called a fencepost tortoise.”
The old farmer saw the puzzled look on my face, so he continued to explain,
“You know he didn’t get up there by himself, he definitely doesn’t belong up there, he doesn’t know what to do while he is up there, and you just gotta wonder what kind of fool put him up there in the first place!”
I returned to my car, well refreshed, and it wasn’t the food or the alcohol, it was knowing I wasn’t alone out there!