Shiny

Shiny: for this week's Abstract Thursday.
I went for a lovely walk out at Longshaw this morning, with Val. Finished off with a therapeutic hot drink and cake at the National Trust cafe, of course.
This afternoon's photo-editing got cut short when Ruth phoned from High Riggs, the farm she co-manages with Josh, at 4.15.
"Er Mum, I've got a problem..."
"Yes...?" (Mentally reviews possible options, with some anxiety).
"I can't get the hens in, they keep running off..."
"Ah...?" (smiling with relief, this doesn't sound too bad).
"But I'm meant to be picking Luca up from nursery, and I won't get there in time. I can't leave till the hens are in. They've got a new pen and they don't recognise where they're meant to be going. Can you pick Luca up and bring him to High Riggs?"
"Sure... "
When I got to Luca's nursery 20 minutes later, the poor little lad was being cradled by a staff member. A metal swing had caught him on the lip: no one's fault, and it seemed that he was more shocked than hurt. The swing hadn't been moving much, in fact. There had been quite a lot of bleeding though. He was too upset to get in the car with me, so I phoned Ruth, and she met us there a little later. Fortunately the nursery is very close to High Riggs. 
And Ruth had managed to tempt the hens into the pen with some over-ripe tomatoes - she'd remembered that these are a favourite with them. She set off home with Luca, who was already looking brighter.
Later, Richard and I watched the Channel 4 dramatisation 'Partygate', which draws on the Sue Gray report into Johnson and the ways in which he and his staff ignored Covid restrictions and then lied about it. It's a good piece of work, in my view, and keeps in focus just how awful and chaotic the Boris Johnson inner circle was. But it left me feeling very sad, remembering how many people had died or suffered alone while that entitled crew joked and danced and drank. End of rant.