OK – so we’re two mature adults, both past 40 and both of us would consider ourselves pretty tough in many respects.

So why is it that we’ve spent the last week going all ga-ga over babies? Not even of our own species. We’ve been gushing of ‘ickle lambs’, nest building birds, calves, wabbits and all manner of other critters. We’ve adopted high, squeaky voices and ooohhhh’d and aaahhhhhh’d all over the place.

Today was the ultimate – we were sitting in the late afternoon sunshine enjoying a cuppa and providing Becks with some light relief, after her day with her two tiny tots, both vying for Mummy’s attention and (certainly Fin) very noisy!!! Pete and Erica pulled up and said they’d been watching a tiny, new-born wild foal on the moor.

What did we do? We jumped in the car and raced up there to see if we could catch a glimpse ourselves. I was very glad I’d heeded my own advice from the weekend and taken my camera out with me!!! There were two foals, one was completely ‘sparko’, snoozing next to its Mum. This one was hungry and was on his/her way for a suckle from Mum. It’s difficult to imagine how those spindly, gangly legs support its body but they sure do.

This is, therefore, dedicated to Pete and Erica, without whom we would not have known the wild ponies were round and about, nor would we have seen the foals. This has been a thrill for the supposed hard-nosed corporate whore!!!

All together now…….aaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhh………….

Last year a pair of complete arses were spoiling my day!