, hero) has done his back in again. And my Achilles is playing me up something rotten.I can just picture it, mused Sandra, drily. Like an episode of Last Of The Summer Wine. The course encompassed the whole of Dartmoor in a wide, sweeping circle
as fast as today’s sorry bunch.“Ah! Good morrow, Mister Blackford!” At least Norman managed a semblance of cheery bonhomie. Harry just grunted at the dog, and Big Ron barely raised a grimace.“You’re slow today,” I replied as I tagged on to their flank
