I was born near Bletchingley in the spring and spent all of the summer having fun with all the other lambs until the beginning of September, when the farmer, George, came and took my brother and me away from the field, put us in his trailer and drove us up to this orchard that they call Heathfield. I saw that there was another sheep in this place who was looking very sad and ill, though he looked like some of the sheep back at the farm. The people were making a fuss over him as he seemed to be sore and had a funny yellow colour on the back of his neck. I heard someone say that they thought I would be a good companion for this sheep, who I found out was called Wilf, but they also said that my brother would have to go back to the farm for a few months until Wilf was feeling better.
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