I glanced out of the windows to see whether any of Margaret’s sheep or cows were out there doing that chewy, starey thing.
But no. No visiting workmen either; eyeballing me through the door, noses pressed up against the glass. Doesn’t half make me jump that.
And then I saw her. A pretty Sussex spider, crouched and camouflaged on a plant from the other side of the world – Opuntia or, as I now call it, Stacy’s weed.
She was just so intent on watching me.