Each week the old byre door has burst open and another group
of excited children have gathered together to celebrate another birthday. We
have had Barbie, Justin Bieber and SpongeBob, with all of the traditional fayre
of sandwiches, cakes, sausage rolls and crisps, together with pottery painting
and party games. I often wonder what the farmers of yester year would make of
it all as balloons and streamers are hung from the rafters of the old byre, and
the island’s children gather to celebrate another birthday. At the weekend we
had a cat themed party, complete with storytelling, before the youngsters each
got to paint a pottery cat in their own individual creative style.
Last month the happy farmer’s sister was over visiting. The
two of us sat in the pottery showroom eating our way through the various cakes
on offer; we justified it as quality control. Over tea she entertained the
visitors with stories of bygone days, recalling how her father used to keep a
Jersey cow. He would milk the cow daily in the byre, where we now sat eating cakes;
any unsuspecting visitors would get a squirt of milk, right in the eye, if his
aim was on target, as he sat chuckling away to himself on the milking stool.
Years later when I first came to the farm, my father in law
could often be seen pretending to busy himself at the farmhouse door, before squirting
unsuspecting visitors with the hose at the standpipe, my father in law
chuckling away. He graduated from the hose pipe onto water pistols, allowing
him a greater aim from any part of the farm. A good sense of humour was an
absolute must; any sign of anger would ensure a good old soaking every time, as
this was the reaction he savoured the most. My poor brother in law’s wife got regularly
drenched, as she failed to see the funny side, and my father in law would be
bent double with laughter as she got more and more angry. I am sure that if my
father in law were still around today he would be highly entertained by the
parties in his old byre, and I am also know that he would be poised by the
door, a huge grin on his face, with water pistol in hand!!
By far the most important birthdays on the farm happened the
other week, when my youngest celebrated her third birthday and turned twelve,
and on the same day, her Grandpa, my dad, celebrated his eighteenth birthday,
wishing both of them a belated happy birthday from my blog, I was too busy
celebrating by eating birthday cake with them to write that week.
Until next time….
