Imagine my surprise, while surveying the minutae of the vegetable patch, to find a stray husky dog leaping and bounding about the place, running backwards and forwards along the electric fence, terrorising the chickens. I clapped my hands, but it didn’t appear to notice. I started chasing it, but at that moment, one of the chickens, in  a serious error of judgement, decided to leap outside the electric fence. The husky was onto it in a flash. I redoubled my efforts to catch it, and we parried back and forth among the vegetables. I cornered the dog, and aimed a kick at its flank. I hit it well, with a satisfying clunk, but this species is made of stern stuff, because it didn’t seem to register that I had even made contact. It barely glanced at me, but shook its head violently, presumably breaking the neck of the chicken lodged in its jaws, and then legged it for the open spaces, pegging it out through the open gate, which the thoughtful postman had omitted to close.

Meeting the owner across the road, where he had prised the carcass free, we both sucked our teeth in mutual exasperation. He offered to pay, but really, the bird had only cost £1. I took it back, and the resident butcher’s assistant drained the remaining blood and plucked and prepared a cari poulet.