Outdoors Diary - Friday 6 October, 2006

Muckthwaite, Friday 6 October, 2006

It's been a bit of an Indian summer here in Muckthwaite. Now why we should have so many visitors coming from India is a bit of a mystery to me, but there you have it. At same time Muckthwaite has played host to an international flautists' festival - that's folk as play flutes to you and me - and it transformed the village and the moor into a magical place.

Everywhere you went there were the sound of music as the flautists rehearsed and practiced like so many rare birds. Perched on tussocks on edge of moor, hunkered down behind dry stone walls, playing to a herd of passing pigs - I even found one small fella sitting on top of urinal in Muckthwaite public conveniences.

Even hardened old farmers like Jack Bastard from Lower Crummy Farm would stop and listen, and I swear I saw a tear in the flinty old bugger's heart. Now I'm an upbeat, open-minded fella, but even I were softened by the constant beauty of the music.

So it came as a terrible shock when a giant cow fell from the sky and crushed the lot of then on first evening of the festival. 'They were confused,' said Peggy Wilmott. 'The music was so beautiful that they didn't know whether they were birds or beasts. But of course cows can't fly, so it's hardly surprising what happened.'

I don't mind admitting that I shed more than one tear that night, Daisy were a favourite of mine, and a good milker too, but of course, Peggy were right, she couldn't fly. You upset the natural order at your peril, is what I say.

Alfred Todger