For education and discussion only. Not for commercial use. IF IT hadn´t been raining so hard on the day of the disinterment, we would have doffed our bunnets as a mark of respect. My neighbour and I stood in grave-faced silence as two officials clad in protective clothing struggled to reopen the hole. We even maintained our composure when one official´s waterproof breeks split with a noise like a protracted fart. Over the years, a great many sheep had sojourned around the hole and their droppings mixed with scraps of wool had formed a thick carapace that was proving stubbornly...