My hog haven is my latest prickly passion

WHEN I first met Polly, I was a nine-year-old lad, who had been living in Nigeria for just over a year, yearning to have a parrot like other army families had. It was early December 1955, on a hot, du

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WE’RE about to embark on the holiday of a lifetime, heading for Heathrow Airport after leaving Ruby and Edgar in the safe hands of house-sitter, Sue. She hadn’t met the dogs before this morning, but t

NOTHING said “home” like the kitchen of Nant-y-Bri Farm at breakfast time. Delicious frying pan smells hung heavy in the air and the scrape of cutlery on willow pattern plates indicated the family had

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