Another little expedition to see the goats. It was written up nicely by Deborah, here.
We scrambled down the side of the gorge, through Scots pines. Pausing on a promontory overhanging the long drop to the river, and ignoring (as much as poss) the traffic noise, I commented that it reminded me of 'For Whom The Bell Tolls'. Deborah said that a spanish friend had been similarly reminded of her homeland by the smell of pine cones hereabouts. So there.
The goats were lounging around, occasionally nibbling at the grass, and now and then having a bit of a fight. Goat bloke heaven.