A huge shriek echoed round my garden yesterday.

We've been away and as a result the lawn was a lush green meadow. So out comes the lawn mower and I'm part of the way through when something is kicked up by the mower blades. Half a frog.

You could use my shriek to cut glass.

Following was the sight of me trying to use a spatula to flip the remains into the undergrowth while remaining at arm's length. Having got closer than I would like, I am reasonably certain that the frog was already dead (for some time) when it met the mower. Possible culprits being the next-door neighbours' cat or seagulls.

I'm hoping that this is symbol that I won't make any more major stitching mistakes for a while because I have another, yes another!, major mistake in Holland that needs to be frogged. Sigh. Plugging away a Celtic for a bit instead - this part never ends.