All wrapped up..

 There was a time when I used to worry about days like today, the big S for two of our pigs, a trip in the trailer to their final destination, the celestial sty. Gone are the days where I used to train the pigs to do back flips into the waiting trailer, the whole smallholding to abattoir transfer done in a military style exercise, timed to perfection, going like clockwork, never any dramas. (Yeah right!) No, now I favour the point at trailer and let pig out method hoping that they find the allure of the blue feed bucket more appealing than 500 hectares of common land. Which was why the first two hours before my well earned bacon sarnie was spent chasing pigs across common land shaking a bucket at their disappearing backsides and wishing that I had kept hamsters instead of pigs.
All was going so well, despite the attentions of the Berners and rampaging Ryleands who all of a sudden couldn't wait to cram into the open trailer to steal the apple slices placed strategically to tempt the soon to be sausage to their fate. Fifteen minutes into the operation with two pigs almost fully in the trailer a third, who we also wanted to be bacon, marched up the ramp and decided that this was the exact moment to settle old scores and a full on fight for the cox's pippins ensued which scattered the dogs, sheep and bipeds until it all calmed down. By which time pigs had it away on their trotters and so the great round up began.
No, what I was really worried about today was the prospect of the trailer obstacle course the abattoir end of the journey. The journey there was uneventful apart from an ambulance wanting the same piece of road I was on and so began the first of many reversing tests which I happy to say I passed with flying colours and aside from hitting a wheelie bin full of rotting entrails, no penalty points.
As usual the mayhem of the small slaughterhouse entrance attracted a ring of spectators, all waiting for the inevitable jack knifed vehicle/trailer combos as the helpless and hapless reverse from the busy main road through the narrow gate, negotiating the crowd, the other 4x4's with empty trailers, escaping animals, cross vets, happy slaughter men and a butcher who is as cheerful as a hung over Phil Mitchell.
Today I watched as grown man broke down in tears mid way through the gate, he was helped from his Land Rover while a volunteer driver sorted out the mess. My turn came and much to every ones surprise (and disappointment) I got through the gate, reversed along a queue of vehicles waiting to exit, waved at Phil Mitchell who was pointing and saying something like "I remember you from last time!" (rude!) parallel parked, then continued back through a gap left by a transit van and sobbing farmer up to the unloading point. Here the slight impact with the wheelie bin could have spoiled a winning streak but as no one saw it didn't count. Pigs out. Away in time to get to work. I collect my medal and sausages Thursday.

Tomorrow is the big day and again, for once I am prepared, well almost. As Tracey my beautiful and oh so patient wife climbed the wooden hill she stopped and handed me something. A roll of sellotape. She knows me so well!