Out for a tootle with friend Annie this afternoon, into the Northumberland countryside. The sun shone, despite the forecast for rain, and we could see for miles. Few photos, as my camera battery was low, but it was the most glorious day, in beautiful rolling farmland.
Wheelbirks Farm used to be a place where you left your money in the honesty box in the farmhouse porch, collected your wonderful Jersey cream from the fridge, and drove off. It's expanded since then, and has opened an ice cream parlour. We thought we should test it out.
Annie had imagined that it would be quiet, tucked away and undiscovered, but the well-filled car park hinted at its popularity.
The production line was frantically busy.
Indoors, generous portions of very fine ice cream were served, and wolfed without the thought occurring to either of us that a photograph would be nice. By the time we remembered - oops, too late.
But the setting was delightful; each table had its own personal attendant.
Suddenly it was closing time, and the place emptied.
But no one seemed in a hurry to chase children out of the play area orchard.
The old tractor was popular.
And the chickens unperturbed.
In this smart little coop a mother hen clucked and fussed over her babies.... baby pheasants.
The notice inside, handwritten by a child, read:
These pheasant chicks are 2 (weeks?) are daddy found the eggs in a field and brought them home. We put the eggs under are broody hen and they hatched 3 days later.
After a stroll round, we got into are car and drove home. A delightful little visit, to be repeated.