A good few miles away on the clock...

The happy farmer’s sister was over visiting on a working break, for a wee spot of partying, I mean painting and maintenance, to the cottage she owns down the road. She breezed in off the afternoon plane, having sent her cousin, who she had enlisted to join her for a relaxing break, involving non-stop painting with a tad of partying thrown in, on the very long car and ferry route. Her cousin and the car were needed to deliver the necessary sweets and cakes, variety of bottles, not forgetting the huge tubs of paint, that always accompany the happy farmer’s sister on such visits.

Those two girls spent their days painting away, even surprising themselves with the amount they managed to get done in the short space of time they had, especially as my sister in law is nearly sixty, as she always reminds us, even though sixty is a good few miles on the clock away.

The evenings were spent around the farmhouse kitchen table eating hearty meals and catching up with us all.

The happy farmer was getting increasingly frustrated as the demands of the lambing rounds were preventing him from giving his sister a much needed hand, until eventually on their final day he did manage to pop down for an hour or so of painting. Armed with a ladder he was determined to reach the parts no other painter had gone before. He gaily climbed some steps and lent the ladder against the back door, proceeded to climb up and start painting, gallon tin of paint in hand, when the back door suddenly burst open, allowing the ladder to fall in the way and slip down the concrete steps at the same time, transporting the happy farmer flat on his face on the ground, tin of paint still in hand and unspoiled  His sister and cousin spent the first seconds alarmed and concerned, before creasing into helpless bundles of laughter at the happy farmer’s misfortune. Luckily he escaped relatively unscathed, apart from the huge concrete burns on his arms and knees, nothing a good dram couldn't sort out later on! The happy farmer’s big achievement that he was immensely proud of was the fact that not a drop of paint was spilled during his free fall, a skill he puts down to years of acrobatic training in various bars involving various bar stools and varying amounts of alcohol….

Until next time……

A spring in the happy farmer's step...

Spring is well and truly here, although the weather still has a lot of catching up to do as it clings onto very wintry temperatures, sunshine mixed with hail storms and biting cold winds, at least I have an excuse this year for not having planted up the vegetable patch yet.

The labour wards on the farm, also known as fields, are bursting with new life as the sheep continue to cause the happy farmer more than a good dollop of stress, as he continues on his lambing rounds from first light until dusk. The pottery has a new pet lamb, Polo Bear, who entertains the visitors and happily suckles away from a baby’s bottle. The happy farmer is not keen on pet lambs, but when Polo Bear’s mother flatly refused to acknowledge the white bundle of fluff belonged to her, the children over ruled the happy farmer and insisted a new nursery was set up opposite the pottery, and Polo Bear was welcomed into the family.

Visitors come and go to the cottages and bed and breakfast suite, with the happy farmer swapping lambing rounds for his role as tour guide. Tractor and trailer at the ready, bread boxes as makeshift seats, he took our lovely French guests out the hill to meet his clan of Highland cows.  Now the happy farmer cannot be totally relied upon to behave himself on such occasions, but when he stopped the tractor, hid behind a rock and then jumped out shouting moo as he mimicked horns with his hands, the French guests did thankfully see the funny side. He did however manage to cause them some concern when his sense of humour led to the tractor grinding to a halt in the very middle of a deep swollen burn. He proceeded to inform them they would need to jump off and push. As the guests looked worriedly from the farmer to the water, a huge grin spread across the farmer’s face, and the tractor sprung to life once more, this time taking the guests straight to where those Highland girlies were happily grazing.

Later on Polo Bear was happily guzzling a bottle from our guests.

Until next time….

Please horses don't gobble me up....

I spent yesterday running around like Sooty the chimney sweep. Why is it disaster always strikes when the Happy Farmer has exited to the mainland?

My mantra of, as I am on feeding duties, 'please horses don't gobble me up today' worked wonders. I gingerly retrieved the buckets from the horses field without them spying me, safely managed to deposit them over the gate, complete with sugar beet, before the horses came galloping over, and then scaled the far away gate while they were busy munching, to sort out their daily hay rations from the back of the horse box. Hansel's jacket half hanging off did require a call for emergency back up though, rather pathetically I know my limitations, even if Hansel is a gentle giant, it is the 'giant' that I am a little cautious of to say the least.
Anyway, having admirably, I have to pat my own back here, taken on the various feeding duties about the farm and overcome various hurdles and anxieties gnawing away at my imagination, I woke up yesterday to find the sitting room awash with soot. Gales had cracked and blown away half of one of the chimney pots. The chimney that runs at an angle, so has lots of soot deposits hiding away in various corners, lots of soot deposits that decided to travel along with the gale into the comfort of my sitting room. Everything was covered with black ash and dust, sticky, thick soot. So yesterday was spent peeling every cover and cushion off various settees and seat, washing down lampshades, glasses and various ornaments. The never ending sticky soot clinging to everything and hiding in every corner. I fought a pointless battle yesterday and to make matters worse found the towels I had tried to block up the fireplace with just wasn't holding back more flurries of soot deposits. Last night saw me battling against those gales, with pillows shoved up the chimney, bin liners taped, although the tape kept peeling off with the draughts, towels and finally a big bed sheet covering the whole fire place. Just a light sprinkling of soot today then, and no roasting, roaring fire.
Until next time.....