When I lived outside of London I used to go hunt sabbing, spending Saturdays in a van chasing round the countryside trying to get between the unspeakable and the uneatable. In all that time I rarely saw a fox, other than the odd streak of red tearing across a field with hounds and horsey toffs in hot pursuit.
In London I see foxes all the time - but rarely one as healthy and comfortable looking as this one, sleeping soundly on the pavement in Vesta Road this morning at about 8 am, oblivious even to me and my dog. I actually thought it must be dead, but then it opened its eyes.
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2 comments:
wait till Camerons nasty Tories, bring back fox hunting
Urban foxes are mentalists. It really cheers me up!
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