Birkenhead is not known for it’s sheep….
The judge at the Cheshire show strides purposefully towards the young shepherds nervously holding their motley ovine charges. He is clearly landed gentry, tweedy-moleskined, with the kind of good looks that have been as selectively bred as the pedigree sheep on show.
The crowd (including the excited group from Woodchurch High School) collectively held its breath….we watch the championship rosette ribbons flutter in his hand like the hearts in our mouths.
Past the flat capped kids whose families have kept sheep for as long as anyone can remember, past the other pupils in white coats whose downcast expressions acknowledge their defeat every bit as much as it testifies their passion and dedication. The polished brogues stop in front of one of our pupils. His shocked expression is humbling, the judge extends his manicured hand and shakes George warmly by the hand. The crowd…
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