The poor Mule has ground to a halt. It appeared to be grinding out bits of metal from around one of the front wheels for a while but I forgot to mention this to Carl. I did find I had to hold the steering wheel at a strange angle to get it to go in a straight line but I assumed this was the ruts in the track. Sam went down the field tonight and phoned Carl to say it wouldn't steer and the wheels were pointing in different directions. I was about to strangle him for breaking my Mule but apparently it is not his fault. I am not sure what is wrong with it but many words were bandied about like calipers, sheared somethings and worn hubs. It is propped up on blocks at the moment amongst much shaking of heads and talk of parts required. I am not allowed to touch it - well it's wheels are off anyway - and I must now walk everywhere which takes ages.
Carl and Sam were beating today and, before the Mule broke, I was having a jolly time zooming around clearing fields, checking fences and doing the odd bit of knitting. Greeves is 3 months today and I really didn't think he would get this far but he is a very independent little chap. Here he is with, from the left, Flamenco, Lina behind him (his Mum), Barnaby Rudge, Vellocette, Lily (just her neck!) and Emily.
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