Action presented itself at 6 am this morning in the form of the author of this blog, setting out walking across the fields from the Star at Lockerley (the Mill Arms had no room last night due to a previous long-standing booking). I had the intention of crossing the approximately four miles to reach Mottisfont, on what I believed would be a peaceful stroll through the lovely English country side.

Instead,I was catapulted straight in to a vortex of pastoral terror.

I tried to cross three cow and bull infested fields using various strategies to escape detection, such as dashing madly between oak trees,haystacks and other incidental cover; or tip-toeing slowly and silently through the long dew-covered grass, both of which failed miserably. When I found myself half-way across the field the whole herd, including the bull, would invariably detect me and start stampeding full speed towards me, with the result that I threw myself across the nearest barbed-wire fence within seconds of a certain death.
O.K. Mauled by a lion, or eaten by a crocodile in Africa, I can see a certain vainglorious value in that- but mauled by the wildlife in Hampshire?!
A kind young man in a van on his paper round took pity on me when I emerged, dishevelled and bleeding onto the main road, and gave me a lift.