Friday, 27 September 2013

Its all about me

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. 

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