I Think It Was The Fact That

That Quotation About Not Having Time To Stand And Stare Has Never Applied To Me. I Seem To Have Spent A Good Part Of My Life - Probably Too Much - In Just Standing And Staring And I Was At It Again This Morning.

If A Farmer Calls Me To A Sick Animal, He Couldn't Care Less If I Were George Bernard Shaw.

I Think It Was The Beginning Of Mrs. Bond's Unquestioning Faith In Me When She Saw Me Quickly Enveloping The Cat Till All You Could See Of Him Was A Small Black And White Head Protruding From An Immovable Cocoon Of Cloth. He And I Were Now Facing Each Other, More Or Less Eyeball To Eyeball, And George Couldn't Do A Thing About It. As I Say, I Rather Pride Myself On This Little Expertise, And Even Today My Veterinary Colleagues Have Been Known To Remark, "old Herriot May Be Limited In Many Respects, But By God He Can Wrap A Cat.

And There Was That Letter From The Bramleys—that Really Made Me Feel Good. You Don’t Find People Like The Bramleys Now; Radio, Television And The Motorcar Have Carried The Outside World Into The Most Isolated Places So That The Simple People You Used To Meet On The Lonely Farms Are Rapidly Becoming Like People Anywhere Else. There Are Still A Few Left, Of Course—old Folk Who Cling To The Ways Of Their Fathers And When I Come Across Any Of Them I Like To Make Some Excuse To Sit Down And Talk With Them And Listen To The Old Yorkshire Words And Expressions Which Have Almost Disappeared.

I Love Writing About My Job Because I Loved It, And It Was A Particularly Interesting One When I Was A Young Man. It Was Like Holidays With Pay To Me.