I have hidden myself away in a run down cottage, a ramshackle thing which is no more secure than a tent. Last night, through the marvel that is the overland telegraph (there's no internet or mobile reception), I called the kid and told him I thought I might have a pet cow.
"I feel like whether a person has a pet cow or not is a thing they would know for sure one way or the other," he replies.
I clarify. "She's always here but she's not mine, yesterday I found her lying on the lawn like a giant dog."
