If your peaceful Sunday was disturbed by an irate cow in your garage, let me apologise now.

It began about 1.30pm, just as I was reaching for my fourth roast potato, when an unruly herd down the road decided to jump ship and break free. A sharp-eyed neighbour spotted the group at large and called for back-up.

But, what should have been a few minutes gently coaxing them back into the field, turned into a whole afternoon of cow hell instead. Just yards from the gate, they all did a runner.

Thundering off across acres of wheat crop, under several power lines, clearing two fences and a ditch, they came to a temporary halt about a mile away.

The charade ended five hours and three villages later, with eleven farmers, several passing motorists and a vet trying to stop two Charolais’ running all the way to Wallingford.

“Excuse, me, I think one of our cows is in your garage.” I explain to a frantic homeowner, knocking on her patio doors as the Belgian Blue dodged a Vauxhall Corsa, veered off the road and galloped down the gravel drive.

But by this point, our four-legged friend had trampled through the Begonias, kicked the car and was considering stampeding the pond. We envisaged her hurtling through the French windows if she didn’t get her way. Those still standing took off down the road in hot pursuit of cow two, who was found enjoying a pint out the back of the Crown in South Moreton.

I could go on. There was a lot more running then some sedatives. You get the gist.

Eventually, after dragging one away from the pub, and the other out of the pond, tranquillity resumed across south Oxfordshire.

If you do discover a cow in your garage, don’t call us.