Things have obviously been running too smoothly at Rock HQ so a massive fly in the ointment appeared late this afternoon just to keep us on our toes. The pig feed run had to be done, the last 3kg scoop was eagerly scoffed by the inhabitants of the maternity ward and unless I wanted a riot from the pork tomorrow morning fresh supplies were needed. Further bother was to be had at the farm supermarket who had sold out of the usual universal feed normally rapidly devoured by the critters so they sold us some other stuff that's the same but higher in calcium for especially for nursing mums. As almost all of the female mammals at Rock HQ are currently lactating this seemed like a good idea, it also came in handy 25kg bags rather than a 750kg tote bag, which as it happened was a God send.
The new feed was only available in a 1000kg pallet load, fine, Trixie can carry 1500, but as Hazel the almost 4x4 has trouble pulling skins of rice puddings I decided no to put in the 250 kg of horse feed and a few other bits and bobs. A second trip would be made for those. Again, as this turned out, a good thing. Just before waving goodbye to the happy store manager, he happy at having sold nearly 400 quids worth of feed, I noticed one of the nearside tyres on Trixie was a bit down, the inflator in Hazel wouldn't reach, the store had no airline, take it steady then.
Almost half way home the small god of burst tyres manifested, not on the nearside, on the off side, the sudden shuddering in the steering wheel a first indicator of trouble. Having expected problems on the nearside it was a shock that the offside should let me down, the tyres are pretty good, legal anyway, but the sudden extra weight on the remaining good tyre caused another catastrophic deflation and even me singing "Three wheels on my wagon" failed to raise a smile from my beautiful and oh so patient wife. Faced with abandoning Trixie and feed on a windy country lane, an accident ready to happen, I managed to get her to a haven opposite a house, the occupants of which we sort of knew. Well we knew them well, they sold me beer when they had a pub and I could afford time and money to enjoy myself, anyway I reminded them of our previous acquaintance and they were more than happy to help out by letting me dump a knackered trailer on them.
Soon, well after three trips, soon the 45 sacks of feed were transferred from Trixie to Hazel and stored in the workshop. Anyone walking Offas Dyke for the next few days will find a broken blue trailer right on the route, feel free to take shelter in it from the drought.
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