Manmade or natural

If you got an itch you got to scratch it. But whats best, man made scratchers or natural ones.

Here we go again

I got back late tonight, as I turned Vic to home I was thinking about foxes, and one that I had helped to the celestial chicken coop when I chanced upon it in our lane. Vic crawled along our dirt track, his suspension cant take the deep potholes at anything other than walking pace and the sheep refuse to give up their sleeping spaces until gently nudged by the muddy Volvo so we were looking out for dozy Ryelands. There sitting in almost exactly the same spot where I had dispatched the fox were two more, sniffing the air and watching our slow progress. A late patrol of the perimeter ensued, all poultry was accounted for but its clear we are still under siege.

They know me so well

Its been a good day, one that took me far from HQ but I met a lot of interesting people and over tea and biscuits conversations cantered through topics as diverse as squatting, suicide, building, DIY, D-Day, chickens, childcare, fostering, art of the renaissance and the last three CD's purchased. The penultimate visit was with some foster carers who know me very well and know that my beautiful and oh so patient wife puts up with my eccentricities now and then, but even I was at a loss to explain when they tactfully raised the subject why I was wearing brown jumper inside out and back to front. As I struggled to rectify the fashion disaster saying something along the lines of its a good job I don't embarrass easily they kindly pointed out that things like that made me more approachable. I think that was a compliment. After turning it the right way and immediately putting it on backwards again I decided that this was not actually my jumper, this was indeed remarkable but as the patient one pointed out on my return to HQ I had left the house that morning wearing a blue jumper. With your name tag in it she added.

Nothings simpler

As if life isnt complicated enough at Rock HQ what with mentalist ponies engaged in blood fueds over who should have the stable with hot and cold running horse treats, cows with the morals of alley cats and better gymnastic skills than the Russian Olympic squad and agoraphobic goats that deploy lethal gas as you grope in the dark for the milk taps, then whats needed to fill in any "spare" time is a childs toy, bought by paternal grandparents as a Christmas gift, that when finally released from its box, falls across the floor in a spectacular rainbow waterfall of bright plastic chunks amongst which is a small unobtrusive scrap of paper that states "Some adult assembly required"

This when translated means adult will have to spend best part of an evening sorting, identifying, opening bags containing 1.3 million microscopic screws, marrying up butterfly stickers and luridly coloured envelope stickers with appropriatly shaped slabs of plastic and then assembling childs toy that helpfully comes with a 17 page instruction booklet in 19 languages none of which are a recognisable form of English whilst at the same time preventing infant from pulling bags over head, eating the smaller bits or pulling hammer off cupboard onto head.

When finally assembled grateful infant stopped sobbing (the tantrum from stopping self inflicted injuries surpassed in volume the cries of same infant terrified by parents use of powertools necessary to finish job a Chinese factory worker started) long enough to advance on new large plastic construction, pat it gingerly, twiddle the twiddly thing before returning to toy of choice, a blue wooden brick with two holes in. Parent notes that small wooden brick is part of a larger number of wooden bricks which would if time allowed create a mutli dimensional brightly coloured wooden train. Suddenly murderous equines, tarty bovines and farting goats seem less of a problem.


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Prisoner cell block H

Apollo opting for life behind bars. Maybe a file smuggled in with his hay might help.

War Horse

Little Johnny Big Potatoes, aka Trevor the Pocket Rocket (above) has been up to mischief again, this time inflicting ABH on one of his companions. He is often found loitering with intent around Chester's stable door, they seem to have a duel over air space, lots of snorting and teeth snapping, occasionally I find a clump of Trevor's mane where he wasn't quick enough, but never any real trouble.
Trevor has been known to bring Misty along to observe this display of equine machismo, she being the sensible sort and definitely pregnant loses interest quite quickly and has her mind set on more important matters like wheres the idiot with the feed bucket. In all the sparring over the stable door has been of little concern to all but those involved.

Until this morning when the front of Chester's stable looked like a prop from a slasher movie, the blood was everywhere. Yours truly first thought that the poor horse had caught himself on something sharp, an unseen nail, a screw head, the edge of a salt lick holder, but after a thorough search of the interior nothing was found that would cause Chester to start leaking red stuff. He being the calm sensible sort let me have a closer look providing I promised not to spray him with anything that made it sting and it was clear that he had been bitten. There not being a full moon last night meant no werewolves were about, a few strands of brown turning white horse hair was all the proof that was needed to convict Trevor of terrorism.

Chester being a brave war horse was awarded an extra ration of nuts and was fir for action later in the day when he set out to test his new hanging cheek snaffle bit. He couldn't try his Mexican nose band as it would have rubbed his wound.
Trevors been advised against further attempts at world dominance and banished to the other end of the smallholding to think about his behaviour.

Brave new world

The apprentice smallholder is being acclimatised to his new room in preparation for the big move next week. He seems to have got over his initial shock/screaming fit when first told that he had to start sleeping in his own room. I'm looking forward to getting the floorspace back my side of the bed as it was sacrificed when his cot moved in.

Catching up

The jobs list was attacked today and for once I didn't create havoc and add more than were ticked off. This was probably due to the fact that I was ordered outside by my beautiful and oh so patient wife so she could carry on where Stable Sprite left off in the DIY on little t's bedroom. I was allowed in now and then, mostly when some item of furniture needed moving. I decided not to pass comment one the fact that the furniture placed in the room was moved round in every conceivable combination until the patient one decided on an arrangement that was the mirror image of how it was first placed. I did manage to put up a set of shelves in one corner that, when painted, will resemble a jungle tree, there is a theme going on here. I stupidly asked what sort of jungle had a green tractor coat hook, the response was to the point, the type of jungle that has blue and white zebras. The apprentice smallholder was introduced to this wonderland and I assume him throwing himself on the floor and crying his eyes out meant that he appreciated our efforts.