At Pontshill: Mud, Mud, Glorious Mud

What is it with boys and mud.

See a muddle puddle. Jump in it. Wash hands in it. Kick it. Splash it. Splodge the mud around it. Encourage the dog to join you.

Then fall into it.

This mud smells of sheep poo. Beau is unfazed. I am not. I am thinking of the sheep poo in my car on the way home.

Beau is still rubbing his hands in it and singing a mud song,
"Mud, mud, glorious mud
Nothing quite like it for cooling the blood
So follow me follow, down to the hollow
And there let me wallow in glorious mud"

Beau sat on a towel in the car on the way home. Don't move I say. X