Summer’s here but Helen Walmsley-Johnson’s still grading her storms according to the number of towels wedged under the door.
In Rutland, Helen Walmsley-Johnson’s got all sorts tumbling down her chimney.
They’re lambing in Rutland and Helen Walmsley-Johnson has a good view of the postnatal ward.
Peace and quiet? In Rutland? You have to be kidding, says (shouts) Helen Walmsley-Johnson.
This month, Helen Walmsley-Johnson chows down on last year’s turkey and quaffs a mealworm. Country life is all about making do…
Laying a fire is a faff, says Helen Walmsley-Johnson, but a real one’s a lot more satisfying than a ‘Feu de Bois’ candle.
Helen Walmsley-Johnson and the Cat finally have the time to notice the autumn hues. It’s just a shame the birds are drowning out their thoughts.
Spiders, spiders, everywhere, and Helen Walmsley-Johnson needs a drink. Will a “spider safari” at the local bird fair help quell our columnist’s terror?
Nervous blackbirds, stupid lambs and randy shrubbery have driven rural Rutland to the brink of midsummer madness. Helen Walmsley-Johnson, naturally, is tickled pink.
As spring continues to bounce through Rutland, Helen Walmsley-Johnson finds her beloved country walks accompanied by dancing hares, helicoptering quail and a startlingly combative ewe.