In a quiet domestic scene that signals the shifting seasons, Tim Dowling finds himself in the kitchen observing an unexpected appearance. While watching the familiar squabble between his dog and cat, his attention is suddenly drawn to another household member who has been absent for weeks.
The Sudden Arrival of a Slow Creature
The tortoise, which had been missing for six weeks, materialises in the kitchen without fanfare. "Where have you been?" Dowling asks, though he suspects the creature has been nestled against the left rear leg of the sofa throughout its absence. The reptile positions itself at the edge of the ongoing animal conflict, head raised as if contemplating joining the fray.
For a moment, the cat's tail waves temptingly before the tortoise's face, but the opportunity passes as the feline redirects its aggression toward the dog. The tortoise then turns its head, making eye contact with its human observer. "Lettuce?" Dowling offers, acknowledging the creature's reappearance.
Premature Spring Signals
"Look who's up," Dowling's wife remarks as she enters the kitchen carrying dirty mugs. "Yeah," he responds while opening the refrigerator. "Spring is here."
Despite this declaration, spring has not truly arrived. Outside, cold rain falls beneath sepulchral mid-morning light. However, a rapid overnight thaw has disturbed the tortoise's suspended animation, prompting its temporary emergence. The creature will likely stomp around the kitchen for several days before finding a new hiding spot—perhaps beneath the dog's bed or in the gap between dresser and wall—where it will retreat for another month.
The Dung Men's Biannual Visit
The tortoise's appearance isn't the only indicator of seasonal change. Later, while Dowling's wife is at the supermarket, the doorbell rings to announce the arrival of the manure sellers.
Two men dressed in flat caps, scarves, and worn jackets stand at the door, offering farmyard manure from the back of their lorry. These dung-sellers visit twice yearly, typically in autumn and spring, representing what Dowling considers "some lost and deeply English tradition." This perception explains why he prefers his wife to handle these transactions.
The pair present a study in contrasts: one remains nearly silent while the other talks incessantly. The talkative one particularly enjoys dealing with Dowling's wife, who appreciates hearing biannual updates about his various health issues. However, she drives a harder bargain than her husband.
Negotiations Over Tea
Dowling rings his wife to report the visitors' arrival. "Oh God," she responds. "Just tell them we don't want any." "It's already gone beyond that," he admits. "I'm making them tea." When she asks about the agreed price, he deflects: "I'm not ready to tell you that."
After preparing the tea, Dowling brings two mugs outside where the rain has stopped. "No sugar, two sugars," he announces, raising the mugs in turn. The talkative man takes the sweeter beverage. "This is early for you, isn't it?" Dowling remarks, thinking of spring's approach. "Yeah," responds the man with two sugars. "We was here six weeks ago, but your missus said to come back in January."
While the quiet partner handles the physical work, Dowling and the talkative man converse about illness, life, and the unpredictable nature of door-to-door manure sales. Eventually, Dowling excuses himself to return to work.
Post-Visit Reflections
After the visitors depart and his wife returns, the couple examines the freshly mulched garden beds through the window. "How was he?" she inquires. "In and out of hospital all summer," Dowling reports. "Still having tests."
He continues sharing news from their conversation: "And they got a new truck, exactly the same as the old one. And his daughter converted to Islam." "Really?" his wife responds with interest. "She lives in Dubai," Dowling explains. "And I guess she married a fella out there."
When pressed for more details, Dowling admits uncertainty about whether the father attended the wedding. "You're useless," his wife teases. "You should have been here," he responds with a shrug. "Anyway, they did a good job." The conversation concludes with the still-unanswered question about the transaction's cost, which Dowling continues to avoid disclosing.
This domestic vignette captures those subtle seasonal transitions marked by animal behaviour and traditional commerce, offering a window into English country life where natural rhythms intersect with human interactions.
