Strange things happen in the rurals.

I met him in the supermarket, a chance encounter between chicken seller and chicken buyer, a nice guy called Jed who had sold us four hens, lovely birds, vaccinated too. He was buying bread, you see, crusty baguettes, French sticks, medium sliced wholemeal hovis, chocolate donuts, pastries, that sort of thing.

"How are the chickens then?" asked Jed.
"Dead, Jed" I said.
"Dead!" said Jed, incredulously, his French sticks wavering.
"Dropped dead, Jed" I said.

And with that we parted company, Jed to the frozen food cabinet (two for the price of one, three for the price of two), and me to the biscuit aisle. I attach no blame for this dead chicken scenario, such things happen in the rurals.

A moment or two later, as I nipped smartly up the tinned food aisle to avoid meeting Jed again and causing further embarrassment, I found myself at the meat counter and was reminded me of an unfortunate incident involving a sheep. There was a crofter in the locality called Reg, you see ("Reg the Veg", as he was affectionately known), a mild mannered character with a particular fondness for growing organic vegetables. Now his garden bordered on a field full of sheep, and therein lies the tale. One of these sheep, a prize-winning beast known locally as "Sam the Ram", had this irritating habit of jumping into Reg’s garden at night and feeding on his prize-winning vegetables, a habit that sorely vexed Reg. Can’t be having that sort of behaviour in the rurals, now can we? Cows on the electoral role, yes, that’s to be expected, but fence-hurdling sheep, quite improper. In fact so enraged did Reg become by the nocturnal antics of "Sam the Ram" that one night – on encountering Sam feeding on his Curly Kale - a vicious struggle ensued with much thrashing and gurgling in the vegetable plot until finally the dastardly deed was done. Reg strangled him.

In the morning, however, Reg had a problem. How do you explain a strangled sheep in your veg plot? Not the sort of thing that you might expect from an organic gardener, is it? No, no, certainly not. It was a sticky situation.

After some consideration on the matter, Reg threw "Sam the Ram" back over the fence and then transported the asphyxiated beast to the far side of the field before going to bed exhausted. Later that day, on hearing reports of a strangled sheep in the neighbourhood, he joined with the puzzled vet and perplexed sheep owner in the neighbouring field to study the deceased beast and offer his commiserations. A mystery, of course, that’s what it was, a rural mystery to be debated and conjectured about for years to come. Could there possibly be an epic song in the offing, one wonders, the sort of song that involves unaccompanied vocal stirrings of a Gaelic kind perhaps? Who knows?

Yes, strange things happen in the rurals.