Larry the half a lamb

I don’t know if his name was Larry (as in “happy as”) But it should have been.

A local lamb our Larry. Lived up the road. Chopped up into chops and joints, he’s now stuffed in Georg’s freezer for the winter.

This is what Larry – as chops – looks like on a plate

Look at how original those chops look – as original and as individual as Larry himself. Nothing fancy needs to be done to enjoy juicy fat chops like that

He melted in my mouth did Larry.

The loveliest, lambiest, chops of lamb i think I’ve ever tasted.

And here he is.

Well – not really.

(This is how Larry the Lambster exists in my head)

A funny little herbert

The farmer must have got fed up of him. Left that odd tuft of wool as an omen.

But the chap kept nosing and nibbling quietly across towards me.

The night was falling it’s eerie darkness into the field.

Behind was the spooky church on the hill.

I could have been in a novel by Harumi Murakami.

With something strange about to happen – or maybe already happened

to this funny little herbert