For a time, we had a peacock in the village. He wandered along every lane, every pathway, he flew up onto rooftops, conservatories, sheds, and crowed his little heart out, in search of a mate.

I can’t think it’s a phrase that comes up very often regarding peacocks but still, “He’s probably someone’s pet,” was said an awful lot at the time.

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(This is him with Poppy, at the entrance to the Legion)

Now, when I say he wandered the village for a time, I’m not talking about days. It must have been a good couple of months that he was this beautiful, loud, wonderful irritant.

You see, the cawing never abated. All times of the day and night, from one end of the village to the other, this gorgeous thing was calling out for a girlfriend.

The nicest thing about the whole affair was – when the cawing finally stopped, everyone I met, walking the dogs, at the shop, at the Legion, everyone wondered if he was all right.