Sunday, 29 September 2013
Posted by Tony at 22:08
Among other things that happened today, little t had his first blackberry which he declared was perfect.
This about sums up the day, a lot of fun but feeling tired. Boom boom. Thank you! I'm here all week!
Posted by Tony at 00:20
Friday, 27 September 2013
While the majority of the day has been spent either holding, feeding, rocking, changing him, changing me (thanks Alexander!) laughing at the midwife (good shot!) the new rug rat there have been several diversions since early doors when MkII rug rat decided the whole household should wake up.
Miranda was taken to be serviced ready for winter driving (not long now) and so I took my bike so I could get back to HQ and as it was sunny I took a long way home pondering on the fact that this was the first bike ride since 14 September due to pressures of puppies, work, smallholding, Apprentice smallholder and planned arrival of new one. Can't really complain as I have managed runs and walks but it felt like a long time since I was last in the saddle. Back at HQ I finally nailed a job that has been lurking at the midway point on the jobs list forever, clear out the pantry. There I found all manner of treasure including some homebrew that has been threatening to kill anyone fool enough to tamper with the bottles since 2008. Your truly being the brave sort took the top off one bottle and the resulting detonation left me holding the top, bottle neck and little else while the walls, worktops, ceiling and all animate objects (sorry supergrandma) in the kitchen were suddenly wetter than a split second previous.
Another bike ride fetched Miranda back to HQ and plans for a quiet evening in were thwarted by beserker Berners who again refused to sit quietly in the conservatory. Finally I go the message, much to everyone's relief and the Berners knew exactly what Lassie had to go through to when trying to tell her owner that little Johnny had fallen in the well. What my dogs were trying to tell me was that there was more trouble on the goat front. A cry not unlike a ruptured hippo hung in the night air and I knew that it meant only one thing. Eva was in trouble somewhere in the dark, probably amongst the nettles and certainly nowhere easy to get to. I eventually located her on her back, wedged between a dirt bank and fence and just to make it entertaining to get her out, covered in nettles. Thankfully it was an easy rescue, easy as in stung to death type rescue but at least she didnt explode or die and it got me out of changing MkII's nappy which has now reached what is expertly described as the chicken Korma stage.
Posted by Tony at 22:58
Thursday, 26 September 2013
Posted by Tony at 23:17
Wednesday, 25 September 2013
Posted by Tony at 23:23
Tuesday, 24 September 2013
Monday, 23 September 2013
Sunday, 22 September 2013
Friday, 20 September 2013
Thursday, 19 September 2013
Wednesday, 18 September 2013
Me. Are you lost.
OBF (Oddball friendly) Not exactly but I am sure you can help.
Me. Well I know where I am, show me on the map where you think you are.
OBF. Well if I carry on in this direction I will end up in village X.
Me. No. Village X is there (me pointing in the opposite direction.
OBF (looks accusingly at map) No how did I manage that then?
Me (pointing to map) You carried on along this track and missed that turn.
OBF (looking sheepish) ooops, schoolboy error
Me. Never mind, easily solved, back the way you came, black gate, that leads to the world.
OBF. (walking back towards the world) Thanks
Me. You on a walking holiday then?
OBF. Not exactly (looking really really sheepish) I write for a living
Me. Oh yeah, what?
OBF (growing a woolen coat and bleating) I write guides for walkers
Me (trying not to laugh) Hahahahahahahahahahahahaha
OBF (grazing, trying to salvage credibility) I'm (name deleted to spare embarrasment) and write for several walking magazines like...... (gives names) (stops and looks at me sheep to man) You wont tell anyone about this will you (pitiful bleat)
Me. Mate, you have no idea.
Posted by Tony at 22:57
Monday, 16 September 2013
Sunday, 15 September 2013
Simple as that.
And it was.
For once, and much to the amazement of the haulier waiting to take the three little pigs, it was easier done than said.
The pig club recruits used to being hand fed apples raced after me to the trailer. Thor forsook Bridget for the joy of ponies thus leaving yours truly free to entice Bridget to the luxury transport wagon. All three safely aboard in around three minutes.
It was a shame there was no camera around to record this incredible feat.
And then just as quickly it all began to unravel.
The pigs needed to be tagged with an identity number and herd number so as it can be traced etc and doesn't end up in anyone's lasagna disguised as horse meat. My piggies are used to having their ears fondled while eating ready for the precise moment in the trailer when I reach across and give then a quick ear piercing and pretty orange tag.
So much went pear shaped.
First off the tagger refused to tag, it just jettisoned the tag on the floor, not before pinching Tweedle Dum or Dees ear, worse, Bridget's tag broke, then stuck tagger and all to her left lobe.
Drawing board was hastily referred to, tagger was obviously the fly in the ointment, time for the big guns. MkII tagger, heavy duty version, but pigs are now wary of ear fondling and creating a fuss at the end of the trailer out of harms/arms way.
Even apples could not entice them.
Haulier, one eye on clock and penny to minute ratio, gallantly volunteered to get in amongst anxious pork and in colloquial terms, get a grip.
This had several effects which thankfully resulted in no serious injuries, but presence of driver in confined space with three nervous porkers changed the game somewhat and Bridget took matters into her own trotters and altered the rules of smallholding, in particular the one that says that any animal can get out of anywhere through a gap exactly half the size of its body. Bridget, being a full grown sow, probably weighing some 200 pound launched herself through the rear of the trailer over my shoulders through a gap barely 14 inches wide and 3 foot off the ground. While she busied herself in the apple sack irate
driver got a grip of the business end of the small boar and I tagged the right ear, as in pigs ear not human. Soon it was all over bar the shouting (let me out of the trailer type shouts) and Bridget behaved by climbing back into the transporter, well say climbed, was assisted in by yours truly pushing from behind and now I was thankful no camera was around as it looked well dodgy.
Silence descended on Rock HQ and after a well timed sausage sarnie other jobs were got on with. By weeks end, all being well several tons of pork and sausage will return and fill the space in Mr Whirlpool left by the treasure hunt barbque!
Posted by Tony at 22:30
Saturday, 14 September 2013
Roll on next year.
Posted by Tony at 22:11
Friday, 13 September 2013
Posted by Tony at 23:41