Here comes the flood!

Ever have one of those days where you really should have stayed in bed?

Since we have been Rock HQ we have only hidden from the onslaught of the weather on two occasions, the demands of hungry livestock and seven dogs crossing their paws for the toilet tends to spur you on and get you out of bed. The last time Tracey and I decided to have a lie in the roof started to leak over our bed, thanks to the goat, Maggie dislodging the roof tiles as she ran over the roof in search of fresh greenery to devour. Luckily Ben, our son, was home on leave from the Army at the time so it saved me having to clamber up onto the roof with my whole left arm encased in plaster, or worse still, me having to watch Tracey perform the hazardous trip to replace the tiles. Maggie watched the whole exercise from the safety of our car roof. It’s a good job she’s such a nice goat otherwise she might have been a curry a long time ago.

This morning was one of those mornings where I momentarily questioned living at the Rock. It had rained almost solidly for 24 hours, our highly accurate, no expense spared hi tech rain gauge, a coffee cup on the wall in front of the house, showed we had had two inches of rain.

Never mind it was clearing up now, so I walked up the track to the kennels and goat house in a happy frame of mind thinking of the progress we were making.

Disaster.

They were flooding.

We have a spring on the hill which from time to time dries up. Most of the time it’s a steady trickle which we catch in a small reservoir and pipe to water tanks strategically placed around the Rock where we store around 800 gallons for the garden and for animal use. It would be a 1000 gallons stored but when Ben and I moved the 500 gallon tank he panicked thinking it would squash him as it started rolling and so jumped out of the way allowing the huge round black plastic tank to pick up speed and roll down the hill unhindered until it crashed into Ivan our lightweight Land Rover on guard by the gate. Ivan sustained no damage but his bumper punctured the tank just above the 300 gallon mark, hence we now only store 800 gallons.

Anyway I digress.

The spring had sprung into life and a torrent of water gushed down the hill joined by many tributaries. These had collected just above the farm track and water now surged along the side of the kennel block and out onto the path in front of the goat houses. Geisha the new goat was safe and dry on a stack of hay bales but you could tell she wasn’t happy with the new water feature in front of her dry bed. The dogs had all gathered at the dry end of the kennel block and were contemplating using their dog beds as makeshift life rafts.

I grabbed a spade and went to the far end of the kennel block and began one armed digging, not very effectively, to try and divert this new stream away from the animals. After much struggling and cursing I succeeded in diverting the water course and flooded the dry half of the kennels. The dogs ran to the other end and formed a canine pyramid of panic against the wire in a frantic effort to stay dry. It was not good, I needed help. Luckily Karl had donned his super hero costume and joined me. Between us we managed to divert the water into the goose house which upset them mightily, quite surprisingly they don’t like rivers running through their beds either. I retrieved the floating eggs and carried on my one armed excavations. By now Karl had done the majority of the work and order was restored as the flood subsided. I had begun to wonder whether Karl would have been better employed to build us an Ark rather than out buildings, given the amount of timber I had ordered it was still and option.

We grabbed a hurried breakfast and set to the tasks ahead. An easy day as it was Karl’s last one at the Rock so it would be unfair to make him work too hard. We finished the second goat house and cleared the builders debris away so the building was serviceable, the sheep would have to go in it later in the day as they are due to lamb.

The major job of the day was to cut up the base to the static caravan that had been a blot on the landscape since we had moved into the Rock in 2006. I had already taken most of the top off, well I started it then Karl finished it for me and put all the scrap in a huge skip for re cycling. The base was going to be easy, with our metal cutter and new discs we should be able to grind the bolts off and put the small pieces into the skip quite quickly.

A new rule to smallholding was discovered while we set about our business. The one which states check your tools before you use them. I hadn’t, and so when it came to use the metal cutter we found we couldn’t use it because a) the beagles had chewed the electric cable to it and b) the beagles had buried the tool pouch to the cutter so once we fitted a new cable we couldn’t fit a disc because we didn’t have the right spanner. Bless them.

This was why Karl, Tracey and I could be found in the weak spring sunshine cutting up the metal frame of a 30foot long static caravan with a junior hacksaw. Four hours later we had managed to cut it into six sizable chunks that we could just about carry the 30 yards to the skip. Lifting the heavy metal pieces over the high sides of the skip I reverted to the techniques used by the ancient Egyptians when they moved impossibly heavy blocks of stone into place. Whips and shouting. Eventually we got it loaded, even the axle which was a solid metal bar two inch square fell victim to the junior hacksaw. We all staggered into the kitchen for a cuppa and looked forward to a relaxing evening.

But first we had to round up the sheep and install them in the new goat house. This was done remarkably quickly as they just happened to be walking through the yard. One by one they were tempted by a bucket of sheep nuts to enter the unfamiliar building. We then wormed them, wormed Maggie the goat and Crispy the Ryeland Ram.

Before we went back into the cottage we sawed up a few wheel barrows of wood so we could have a fire for the night. Only then did we pack everything up and retire from another day at the Rock. We were all exhausted, I felt as though I had participated in a marathon, my muscles burned from the days efforts. We had a fantastic roast dinner, Rock produced Berkshire Pork and no one minded it was 9pm before we could sit down to eat. Karl thought it was the best pork he had ever eaten and the crackling was to die for. We all had seconds or thirds trying to replace the lost calories from our labour. All of us had been on the go since 7 am with only one ten minute break. So much for Karl having an easy last day. Sometimes people say to me wouldn’t it be easier living in the three bed semi you were in before moving to the Rock. I suppose it would but then it wouldn’t be so interesting or so much fun.

If I’m found asleep at my desk tomorrow when I do my paid job just leave me, I’ve had a hard weekend.