Talking of goats, as an octogenarian, strangely, my mind drifted back and provoked a wartime memory of when I was a lad. I was with two of my cousins and after Sunday school, we were wandering down a lane just outside town and there was a field with some goats in it, vainly trying to get out. "Oh look, the poor goats are trying to get out, they must be fed up being in that field!" averred my female cousin thus we obligingly broke down the fence so the goats could make their egress. We then continued contentedly on our way, thinking we had done our good turn of the day by pleasing the goats which by now were wandering all over the lane. I'll bet the goat herdsman/lady was not so happy!
