Spreading muck in the big smoke!

There's nothing quite like the smell of freshly spread dung on a crisp spring morning. Something that reminds me of 7am walks to Wendron postoffice in time to catch the school bus. Not something I expect when I leave my flat in London, but this morning as I left the house I was hit by the unmistakeable smell of muck spreading.

Having been assured by my boyfriend that there aren't any cows within a 100 mile radius I quickly abandoned the idea that it was muck.

As I boarded my train home this evening, the mystery was solved; on the front of the free evening paper was the headline "The Big Stink" - apparently farmers in France and Belgium have been fertilizing and the winds have carried us their delights.

Having taken many 'city' friends home to visit, only to see them clamber out of the stationary car to take pictures of "real, live cows" when we've pulled over to let them pass on their way to milking, it doesn't surprise me that in London this is front page news!

What's even more amusing (or more realistically a sad signs of the times) is that the smell triggered hundreds of calls to the police and radio stations about the city being under attack.