Cankle – that bit between the calf and the ankle…the bit that I’ve just almost, nearly, not quite broken.

I’m surrounded by Were-Wabbits.

I’ve just been in the “kitchen garden” (so called because the kitchen window looks over it) and it has more craters than the surface of the moon.

F’kin Wabbits.

Whom we all love. Especially the tiny baby ones.

Guess who has been elected to go out and line up and lecture all the wild wabbits chez us about digging holes in the lawn?

WTF am I? The Wholly Wabbit Whisperer?