What's that throbbing?

Well, it's a bright day - wish now I hadn't sold my yellow Harley last year. It'd be great to cruise around Dartmoor in the sunshine. Trees and shrubs appearing on the tors like huge cardboard cut-outs against a blue sky. Coming out of a dark tunnel of overhanging branches into sharp sunlight. Sheep skitishly running from the middle of narrow roads, others dithering, debating whether to go left or right and, at the last minute, standing still. Brown and white pot-bellied ponies lifting their heads as I pass saying, 'Blimey, I haven't seen a Harley that colour for a while. Let's put the shits up the rider,' as they stroll four abreast into the road and turn their tails to me. Crows the size of grave stones crashing into each other six inches above the tarmac as they tug at the innards of a dead cat. Actually, now I think about it ... maybe not.

Get editing lad ... get editing!