Show stopper

 This is the time of year where we usually rake the dead hedgehogs out of the coats of our Berners and enter them in a big dog show held up on the top of a local hill. This annual attempt to get our dogs in a fit enough state to compete against the pampered pooches of the we don't take it at all seriously dog show brigade (you know the type with custom paint sprayed dog transporters) had to be abandoned as this year at the same show Red Kite Fostering was strutting its stuff having had the highest praise heaped on it in its inspection report it was only right an proper that we took our place alongside the less able fostering agencies present who are according to their inspection reports only adequate, or less than. Our bright red tent decorated with Red Kite bunting with notice boards featuring the press coverage of our triumphs in the equestrian ring (Red Kite sponsor a youth riding team at Lady Hawkins School) and news of our charity work held the attention of the adults while free face painting drew the kiddies in.

 Not completely dumping the Berner theme yours truly got into the carnival spirit by being painted as a Berner (I didn't win a rosette though)

 The Red Kite logo proved popular as a face paint or tattoo, much to the annoyance of our rivals who were faced with dozens of passers by all sporting a Red Kite emblem on their cheek or arm.

 One of our number took the opportunity to test drive a new car with dubious weather protection

 but at least she could have got a drive on part in Benidorm.

In all a busy and successful day and a big thank you to all the Red Kite team who turned out to support us, to those that face painted, child minded, made tea, put up the tent, or just pointed and laughed, we salute you!

Thats progress

 It didn't take long for little t to give up horse power

for turbo chargers.
Pedal powered ones.
Rules of smallholding 58.
Do not have cat flaps bigger than cats otherwise you might find a pig under the dining table. No picture as the resulting chaos of dogs, pork, beautiful and oh so patient wife holding interested toddler who was shouting encouragement (to me or the pig I wasnt sure) forbad the use of the Nikon to record the event for posterity.

Anything but the kitchen sink

Little Missy went to the vet for her second set of booster jabs today and as she is supposed to be white not quite she had to have a "bath " in the kitchen sink. She took it well.

High on a hill

"Bychristboywhatyougotintherehestinks" is not the usual greeting from The Oracle as he helpfully opened the gate to the world for me this evening, but then again its not usual that I transport a biohazard, who minutes before had been leaving has mark on Rock HQ. Boris is now high on a hill with another lonely goat herd (theres several reasons why lonely, the smelly lethal weapon is the main, being mildly eccentric is the other) who with her cow girl sister (the cows were nowhere to be seen, but they had cows, the evidence of their being was everywhere, either that or they had giant rabbits with stomach upsets)greeted mine and Boris' arrival with a series of screeches of delight that made me think that they didn't get many visitors and that should there be a third screecher all that was required to complete the scene was pointy hats and a cauldron. With their "expert" advice it only took 53 attempts to reverse the trailer through the gateway in the pitch black and as I unloaded Boris, who suddenly became all clingy and refused to leave my side, into view illuminated by Hazel's rear lights ran 50 or so goats of the female persuasion. Suddenly less clingy Boris departed for a night of lecherous debauchery. As I had handed his lead to one of the cackling duo she departed too while the remaining eccentric told me their life story, key features being an orphan donkey, it only drinking goat milk, buying a milk goat, and the rest as they say (or cackle) is history. They have over 50 goats of various calibre now and a very fat elderly donkey.

Breathe easy

 The housemates have voted, the result has brought smiles to the faces of those that are his closest neighbours, Boris is being evicted and moved on to further the species elsewhere.

 This does mean that yours truly has to don the protective clothing and gas mask one more time and wrestle the beast (non contact wrestling) into a trailer and drive him up north tomorrow night. Its best to move him at night as if he explodes the collateral damage is reduced and if he uses chemical weaponry as we go through built up areas he is less likely to have an impact on the general public.

 Then there are those left behind, who will no doubt miss his attention,

and perhaps, in time they will recover their sense of smell. All being well we should have the patter of tiny hooves next year. All not being well the stinkmeister will have to come back!

Gone fishing

 After the intensity of last week the combination of an actual sunny day, finishing a meeting early and someone planting the seed of an idea to go fishing (the idea being go fishing with a boat, nets, dynamite and harpoons to fill several freezers worth of "free" food)I took the executive decision to bugger off early from work and hit the beach, which on a good day is only just over an hour away.

 Today was not so good and 2 hours later we were loaded up like pack animals and making the trek across the Sahara like sand dunes to the thin blue line on the horizon.

 Naturally we arrived in glorious sunshine, applied several layers of factor 30 suncream (white emulsion paint) just in time to put our coats on as it threatened rain.

 Little t decided to explore the rock pools, then found one the size of Lake Michigan, which to our immense surprise (considering until recently he screamed at the mere mention of bath and still refuses to sit in one) got on his hands and knees (fully clothed) and systematically searched the sea bed for crabs.

 Not having much luck he refused to give up until at the onset of first stage hypothermia was dragged from the pool by yours truly

 and carried back to base camp (I actually own a wind break, how old am I getting!) where he was dressed in foul weather gear and fed the seagulls his lunch.

On the road home we found a new place to explore, a Red Kite feeding centre, we got there just after they had had their lunch but a quick recce told us that this was worthy of a new foray from Rock HQ in the near future. There is no getting away from the influence of Red Kite.

One of those.....again!

 After the excitement of Ofsteding and the engagement life at the ranch got back to normal (a label that can only be loosely applied here) and whatever plans I had, like listening to The Darkness' new album Hot Cakes on repeat, loud, or watch the paralympics cycling were surpassed by more pressing matters like finding the answer to why Chester was wearing aqualung gear and where had a pathetic triever put my left wellington. Second question was mercifully quick to find the answer to saving yours truly from limping around the smallholding with one wellie and a carrier bag. (It was in her basket, the missing left new boot still awaits discovery) The reason Chester was swimming became apparent when I opened his stall to find the massive bird brain equine had kicked off his auto drinker thus allowing the 500 gallons of stored water the other side of his wall to gush uncontrollably (the thought of the doofus thoroughbred trying to stop the flow did raise a smile, much like the constipated elephant and monkey pulling the cork joke from schooldays) into his stable this, once depleted was not the end of his problems as the stream then constantly filled the emptying tank and so our Chester became a trainee Seahorse while his master got some well earned Zzzzz's and wandered out into the smallholding arena to take on all comers at half past the usual time full of sausage sandwich, tea and toast and marmalade. The penance for a late breakfast and later start was calming a soggy horse who was having trouble with the front crawl.

Red Letter Day

Yesterday was a massive day for Red Kite Fostering, having started from just an idea that fostering children should be done by committed carers supported by well trained and motivated social work professionals and that it would, put simply, change lives, the hard work and dedication of the team bore fruit and having had Ofsted with us for three days monitoring everything, reading everything and interviewing everyone, Red Kite got the highest accolade possible.
This is a far cry from December 2010 when fire, flood, lorries crashing into the office, snow cancelling the grand opening and some petty soul sending mispelt and misinformed hate mail, made us think were we really on the right track.
The culmination of our hard work is the response to the Trust Fund, massive amounts of money is being raised by members of the community through all sorts of sponsored events (the sky dive was cancelled this week due to low cloud, but will be back on soon, the above is a presentation of some money raised by taking part in the BBMC, next year I am doing the 3 peaks, a separate training blog is attached to the margin) and we are so grateful to all those who worked so hard to make Red Kite so successful. This is not the time to rest on our laurels, more is happening behind the scenes and Red Kite will be changing even more lives soon.
And on a day when we though the good news could not be topped, he who cannot be named (eldest son) sent a text to say he had asked his lovely girlfriend to marry him. Thankfully she said yes and we are looking forward to a happy day soon!