used to have the traditional Get-Powell's-cattle-out-of-the-vegetable-garden runaround every Christmas afternoon just about the time when it was beginning to get dark.
I have searched for pictures but there are none. We lived in the country in an old water mill with my parents. Mum and I would cook the dinner we would all sit down to eat - wearing our Christmas finery of course - and afterwards we would ask one another if we should just sit back and doze for a while or should we just change into working clothes ready for the great break in.
We had Christmas there for twelve years and every year, without fail we would hear our own animals making the "Monsters-are-coming-to-eat-us!" noises and there they would be, Mr Powell's steers trampling over the cabbages. They had found the weak spot in the fence even though my Dad would spend Christmas Eve making sure the fences were all strong.
Sometimes I miss the tradition, but not often because I was usually the one that had to go through the ditch to chase the last steer out and I inevitably finished up with more water inside my boots than outside.
Now I am wishing we had pictures
This is all because of an idea by Sian at FromHighinTheSky Why not take a look at her blog now that you've read mine - she has lots of good stuff in hers