YOU may recall that over a week or two I wrote about the method of sowing seeds that were familiar to me.

Since then I had a thought that although everything does not grow from seed, do you suppose that traffic lights do? I can't help thinking someone has been round Kendal sprinkling traffic light seed and they've sprung up everywhere.

Still, it is well known that all seeds do not germinate so perhaps we should be thankful for small mercies as we could have been stuck with even more traffic lights.

Perish the thought.

When I remember them, or I've been told about them, I have tried to bring you stories that happened with both horses and dogs.

This week I learned about a horse called Timmy who regularly carried his owner in a morning to the station and then came back home on his own.

The distance was about two miles and it is said that Timmy kept well into the side and trotted all the way home.

When he arrived, the family could hear the ring of his shod hooves as he crossed the cobbled yard to go through the open door and into this stall in the stable.

I would not mind betting there would be a feed of oats awaiting him in the manger.

Someone, probably the groom, would go and remove his saddle and bridle, put on his head collar (leather halter), perhaps give him a drink and then leave him to rest until he was needed again.

I don't think the horse, intelligent though he was, ever got so far as going to collect his master from the station by himself, more than likely the groom would pop Timmy in the shafts of the trap and drive to the station.

All this happened in the days when there were hardly any motor cars on the road.

Timmy was of course a great favourite with all the people who lived along his route and although some of them would try to attract him with a crust or an apple, he refused to be deflected from his journey home.

He simply ignored them and carried on along his familiar route.

He was a 15 hands riding horse chestnut in colour with a white blaze on his forehead.

His owner referred to him as having the best temperament of any horse he or his parents had ever owned and, as such, vowed never to part with him - and he never did.

Dialect word: Blether meaning silly talk.

Thought for the day: Punctuality is the art of guessing how late the other fellow is going to be.