In Scotland, playing golf often meant searching for the golf ball on the fairway among tufts of wool shed by sheep who actually were the real players on the course - I certainly was not!
So, today, I was woolgathering - my thoughts . when I spotted somthing that "did not belong" and yet there it was:
There on the marge of Lake Couch was ... could it be ... an otter?
Splish, splash, all on a Saturday as per command - director's cut!
Someone say "cute beastie"?
Don't hit me - I know I'm hansom -
Wool o' the Braids,
or
WOB
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