We Are The Robots (Plink Plonky Plink)

I bounded into the workshop this morning, unsure of what my plan for the day was, to find the place deserted. After further investigation I found one person had bothered to show up: Steve. Steve is probably my favourite member of staff here, he is so full of energy that he cycles the fourteen miles to work every day just so he can face a few hours in front of a computer. It puts my lack of enthusiasm on the two-wheeler to shame. Anyway, he informed me that most people had cleverly wangled the day off, much to my utter disgust. I decided to hang around the workshop for an hour as I'd arranged to meet a National Trust warden last week but couldn't remember which day she'd said, so thought it best that I was at least around in case she did turn up. She didn't. It got to 10am so I told Steve I was going to head out. "If you wait ten minutes I'll give you a lift" he generously chirped, and as it was raining I couldn't refuse. After ten minutes he grabbed the keys and said "You've got a driving license right?", which I confirmed. "You can drive then!" This to me was great news. I haven't driven in months, and the only vehicles here are Land Rovers. My first task was to reverse it out of the garage, and I was helpfully reminded to avoid the walls, which I did, and proceeded to precariously creep along the winding country roads that litter the landscape here. It was nice to be driving again, especially in such a dominating beast of a machine, I felt like I owned the road. All too quickly we arrived at my destination and Steve took his "wheels" back, shame.

As usual, after about two hours of surveying I became fairly distracted, and spied this curiosity in the distance, which I felt was my duty to pursue.
As I got closer I realised it belonged to the local RAF base, and so wouldn't be able to sit in it and pretend to fend of the "Gerries", as I'd assumed I'd be able to. I did, however, find myself in a field of cows. Now, my bovinophobia appears to be spiralling out of control, which isn't particularly useful when they're bloody everywhere.
I don't mind him actually, he has good hair. Or is that a female? If it's a cow I assume the latter. Incidentally this picture was snapped from the other side of an electric fence. I was over there for sampling purposes, not to avoid the cow before you laugh too hard. Anyway, I spent a lot of the rest of the day avoiding other cows and trying to dodge this cloud:
I thought I was being fairly pathetic and was about to embrace a field of cows when I saw this helpful sign:
So my fear doesn't seem quite so irrational now, but it is still something I'll have to face eventually. They're just so big and seemingly aggressive in this neck of the woods! I couldn't get phone reception to ring for a lift back so ended up walking it and getting absolutely soaked. I did manage to finally take a picture of this monstrosity though:
This is the "sculpture" they put outside the local art gallery to tell the public they are open, and is the sole reason I haven't ventured in yet. I've spent the evening constantly eating to replenish the numerous reserves I must have used up on my mammoth trek back.