OUR Toulouse goslings/geese have turned into great hulking brutes of birds. They are still very attached to tiny bantam mum who hatched them and, despite their clear intentions to shower her with filial devotion, she wants none of it.

When it all gets too much for her and she wants sonme peace, she flies over the top of the paddock gate. As they are too big to squeeze under the gate, and too heavy to fly over the top, they are left behind honking mournfully.

I plan to move my geese into an empty paddock. I had originally thought that we would keep these geese for breeding, but they are getting rather deliciously plump.

John is currently re-roofing an old shed. It is covered in lovely old red pantiles, but these have been hidden for several years by honeysuckle and other climbing plants. The time has come, however, to make the whole shed waterproof as I want to use it as a freezer store.

Currently we dare not risk reconnecting the electricity supply as the whole thing would probably electrocute you if anything was connected to the mains. When that time arrives we will ask our friendly electrician Keith to come and work his magic.

Part of the shed was once the old coal house, but a few months ago I swept it all out and installed some kennels in for our dogs. John created a run for them outside and now if we ever have to leave them for a few hours, they happily trot into their new home and settle onto the piles of blankets I have filled their baskets with.

In fact, I frequently find them both in there now when normally they would be using their porch kennels.

So with the dogs happily tucking into their biscuits, John took me off for an afternoon of fishing. He had been the previous day but as it was raining hard, the water was too coloured from mud and earth being washed into the flow further upstream.

Sadly the river was still too high, too full and too fast flowing for him to fish. Any excuse I say. A couple of kingfishers were happily dipping in and out of the current but any salmon there may have been would have no chance of seeing a fly in that water.

In fact, the only fish we saw were battered ones at a fish and chip shop we called in at one the way home. Tasted better than salmon to me.