The sixth sheiks sixth sheep is sick!

It's colder now than it was this morning, and my mind veers towards toast as I walk to my physio. I love toast. But it's visions of sheep that make me think of toast. I meant to write about Aashish's sheep, but the scent of warm toast ready to be slathered by butter, bits of it soaked up by the warmth as the rest of it glistens in anticipation, irretrievably distracts me. It is crucial for the ongoing conservation of our planet, that toast, or indeed all bread be meticulously covered by butter, jam, paté, cheese, marmalade, nutella....every square inch without pause. I learnt from the Master (along with making the perfect bed, but that bores me), and despite 40 years together, my mother's callous dab-on-a-bit-unevenly attitude, keeps Ba occupied during retirement. The thought did cross my mind at the sheep stage that my memory is a bit like toast. Absolutely splendid just off the toaster, all warm and fragrant, begging to bitten into, before degenerating into a soggy mess unfortunately reminiscent of a domestic ungulate's cud. LOL! Would you believe I lost my train of thought by the end of that sentence?? Short lived toast!
The point is, the cold sent images of languid sheep (a duvet desire association?) across my mind, reminding me why Dr. D-uh was on this side of paroxysmal convulsions when he called... an email from the learned Martin Daunton (a super nerd among nerds in the industrious world of academia), informing Aashish, that the attachment allegedly designed as a reference letter, was in fact, nothing more than a cunningly disguised sheep. Yep. Dr. D-uh is sending virtual livestock to his soon to be ex-future mentor, and I quote, 'Dear Aashish, The attachment seems to give me a clip of a sheep! Am I missing something?'. Errr, an older Mary perhaps? It's a miracle. A mundane PDF file given wings to soar... well, to foolishly bleat in any case. The next attempt yielded an oddly technological effort to open the PDF in media player (I personally believe that the sheep was doing rude things, but the dear man was much too polite to share the imagery). My suggestion of responding with the sixth sheikh's sheeps medical woes, had the professor clinging to the rails of an unsuspecting domestic establishment for the next 4 minutes in a fair imitation of a mad cow, before a cut and paste solution put an end to the agricultural bent of what was meant to be an economic debate.
Dear Dr. Velkar, do try and refrain from sending any more farm animals to those who might shape your career. Although, having said that, if he's from Wales....... I think you might have just got your funding! ;-)