The last few days have been pretty tough for me, feeling as though I had finally hit that brick wall of supreme knackeredness and not quite knowing what to do with myself as a result. With Knickers away for a whole two weeks and Sid needing to catch up on some rest after pulling many 16 hour days for a project, I was pretty much left to my own devices caring for everyone and was really starting to feel it, with the added piquancy of ice and frozen taps as the cherry on the top of the muck heap. I knew something had to give when I found myself sitting on the yard blubbing with fatigue and not knowing where I was going to find the energy to get up again, yet knowing I had to or risk a very serious case of piles, apart from anything else.
Sid bless him has been a godsend the last couple of days and helped me do the yard. The timing was particularly apt as we had to close the boys in overnight due to ice-related treachery in the fields and my god can they shit for England! T will make one large stallion pile which is easy to deal with, but Q seems intent on crapping everywhere and it takes an age to muck out. So the help has been awesome and we've been getting everything done in record time, which has been splendid. It also coincided with sufficient thawing to allow me to get the boys out through the yard this morning to give them a workout.
Q first, and as always he was a complete gas. He's SUCH a bloke. After such a lengthy period doing nothing but hunching over a pile of hay in the field or stable, of course even a pipe and slippers man like him felt the pressing need for movement, and immediately set out in a nice forward ground-covering trot. Had there been a sound track, it would have James Brown, "I Feel Good". It's difficult to convey the glory I feel in sharing that joie de vivre as he ramps it up albeit in remarkably controlled fashion for one who has not had a good surface to play on for some two week. The girls were out in the picadeiro as their field was largely still an ice rink, so naturally he had to keep checking them out to see if they were watching. If it was a book title, it would have been The Joy of Movement.
T next, and the goats dutifully scattered as we came in, even Angie who was fastened to his haynet with the determination only a hungry goat can have. Same thing with him, real pleasure to be moving again and straight out into a nice big trot. Q did what he always does in such a situation, which is to say running up to the fence trying to incite violence while T puts on the most glorious floaty trot EVER. This incites Q still further, who charges up and down not knowing quite what to do with himself, while T floats along on a cushion of air, all hair and legs and drop dead Luso loveliness. Q stands for a moment or two before taking to his heels and galloping off down the field with his tail in the air, only to reappear a few moments later to have another pop. I love this, the posturing and displaying and the fact that they both really do seem to enjoy it. It's such a privilege to watch it. Minutes later, Dora appeared around the corner, an act which T wouldn't normally turn a hair at but on this occasion used to launch himself into a feel-good spooking and bucking frenzy that was awesome to watch. He was quite pumped up on the way back in, snorting and prancing, but settling at a quiet word. How I love these awesome boys. Someone once said that stallions wear their hearts on their sleeves (it may have been Lucy Rees), and they really do. They are so vibrant and alive, it is truly awesome.
We've been trying to work up the enthusiasm to go to Bluewater for the past couple of days. Maybe tomorrow will be the day. Luckily tiredness and general ennui in that regard have shielded us from newsworthy record crowds, which was nice. Record crowds are not somewhere I really want to be.
Tuesday 28 December 2010
Sunday 26 December 2010
Nip Nips and beyond
For the first time since I can remember it's been just me and Sid for Christmas. Or more correctly, Sid and I. Absolute bliss. No in laws to entertain, nobody else's agenda to pursue but our own, nobody's whims to accommodate but those of myself, one French person (much easier to deal with in the singular than in packs) and those of the 5000 creatures we share our lives with. The fact that I am attending to 4 horses, 3 goats, 6 chickens, a dog and 5 cats on my jack has meant that there's been ample opportunity to streamline the daily doings, all in pursuit of the pressing requirement to sit on my arse. Speaking of arses, it also means that I can now reliably discuss what it feels like to have a chicken peck you on the arse while you're skipping out a stable. The answer, lest anyone be concerned for the wellbeing of said arse, is that it's not as painful as one might anticipate, although the coldness of the weather and resulting gluteal numbness should be taken into account. Were one to submit this to the rigours of a mathematical formula to determine the exact pain level, there would be a definite requirement to include a numbness quotient based on ambient external temperature, gluteal surface area and layers and thickness of clothing. For the sake of accuracy one might also need to consider the type of peck involved. An investigative peck for example brings to bear rather less force (where F=MA) than would a determined peck of the sort that would occur were one for some reason to find oneself wearing pants made of the finest corn, although I'm not convinced that we need to concern ourselves at this stage with these rather less likely events and would do better to concentrate on more regular clothing such as breeches or jeans.
In the French tradition we had our main meal on Christmas Eve, and it was probably the best meal I've ever eaten. It was also a complete treat not to have to lift a finger and be served with a startling array of gorgeous grub. I can see that there's going to be a lot more home made pasta in our immediate future! Clearly it was a Good Day for cooking and Sid bless him cooked out of his skin to produce such a glory of fine food. We don't really do presents any more but concentrate instead on enjoying good food and being here at the farm, which is essentially a lifetime's worth of Christmases and birthdays all rolled into one.
We had friends round on Christmas night which made for another epic and a 2:30am close. Blast my eyes, all I can think about is having to get up early to do breakfasts when I get past a certain point. Notwithstanding that it was a really good night and has given me some food for thought about some changes that I need to make for the next stage in my life.
Because the fields are frozen solid and icy in places we kept the boys in last night, and this morning my plan was to place a line of electric rope across just outside the stable to give them access to outside but not the whole field. So I dutifully got out the fencing kit and fiddled around putting the line across Q's fence, and tied plastic bags on it to make more of a visible barrier. Ha! Let Q out and he went charging out at full pelt, striaght through the fence as though it wasn't there. Arses. Luckily he didn't do himself a mischief and it kind of reaffirmed my thoughts that it's probably safer to leave them free access so they come and go calmly, than keeping them in. Can't wait for the thaw though and I've put down some old hay and poo on his regular path to give a bit more traction.
In spite of this I felt it was worth trying with T, so off I went with the fencing kit and fiddled around putting the line across T's fence, and tied plastic bags on it to make more of a visible barrier. This time I led T out and let him have a sniff before taking off his headcollar, at which he ducked his head and walked straight under the line as though it wasn't there. *sigh*
So they're out with a big pile of haylage, and the girls are in the picadeiro, where Q can keep an eye on them.
Meanwhile my plans to get up to see my folks have fallen by the wayside because the ovlov's head gasket hasn't been fixed and it is locked in the garage for the duration. Sid is thrilled because it doesn't mean he has to stay home and minister to 4 horses, 3 goats, 6 chickens, a dog and 5 cats all by himself.
Still no riding. The yard is an ice rink, but I'm hopeful for Tuesday when we are expecting temperatures of around 10 degrees - a veritable heatwave!
In the French tradition we had our main meal on Christmas Eve, and it was probably the best meal I've ever eaten. It was also a complete treat not to have to lift a finger and be served with a startling array of gorgeous grub. I can see that there's going to be a lot more home made pasta in our immediate future! Clearly it was a Good Day for cooking and Sid bless him cooked out of his skin to produce such a glory of fine food. We don't really do presents any more but concentrate instead on enjoying good food and being here at the farm, which is essentially a lifetime's worth of Christmases and birthdays all rolled into one.
We had friends round on Christmas night which made for another epic and a 2:30am close. Blast my eyes, all I can think about is having to get up early to do breakfasts when I get past a certain point. Notwithstanding that it was a really good night and has given me some food for thought about some changes that I need to make for the next stage in my life.
Because the fields are frozen solid and icy in places we kept the boys in last night, and this morning my plan was to place a line of electric rope across just outside the stable to give them access to outside but not the whole field. So I dutifully got out the fencing kit and fiddled around putting the line across Q's fence, and tied plastic bags on it to make more of a visible barrier. Ha! Let Q out and he went charging out at full pelt, striaght through the fence as though it wasn't there. Arses. Luckily he didn't do himself a mischief and it kind of reaffirmed my thoughts that it's probably safer to leave them free access so they come and go calmly, than keeping them in. Can't wait for the thaw though and I've put down some old hay and poo on his regular path to give a bit more traction.
In spite of this I felt it was worth trying with T, so off I went with the fencing kit and fiddled around putting the line across T's fence, and tied plastic bags on it to make more of a visible barrier. This time I led T out and let him have a sniff before taking off his headcollar, at which he ducked his head and walked straight under the line as though it wasn't there. *sigh*
So they're out with a big pile of haylage, and the girls are in the picadeiro, where Q can keep an eye on them.
Meanwhile my plans to get up to see my folks have fallen by the wayside because the ovlov's head gasket hasn't been fixed and it is locked in the garage for the duration. Sid is thrilled because it doesn't mean he has to stay home and minister to 4 horses, 3 goats, 6 chickens, a dog and 5 cats all by himself.
Still no riding. The yard is an ice rink, but I'm hopeful for Tuesday when we are expecting temperatures of around 10 degrees - a veritable heatwave!
Tuesday 21 December 2010
Taking it easy
Well after a fashion, with snow on the ground for the nth day running, Knickers away and many creatures to tend to. I'm re-schooling them all to accept a later than usual breakfast time by getting up 15 mins later every day. Am now on 6:10am from 5:20, aiming for the environs of 7am. Today is technically Day 5 of my hols but only now am I starting to slow down a bit.
Yesterday I seemed to be at it ALL DAY. Why does that happen I wonder. Took ages to get both cars started in order to get the ovlov to the garage. Sid had to go in to work to collect his laptop, so once I got back from dropping him off I set about yard duties. OK so having everyone out in snowy fields with frozen troughs there is the ongoing requirement to minister to their needs for water and forage, which takes some time. The boys come and go as they please, and continue to do so now that we've flattened the bad bits outside the back of their stables (in a blizzard), but the girls need to be taken out and so do the goats. And it's not really necessary to put the beds up every day either. Technically I suppose it's not essential to take the boys' rugs off for a bit so they can roll and prance in the snow either. But this doesn't really explain how I can spend the best part of the day arsing around out there.
Dan next door had a mains water leak which necessitated turning off our stop cock. Presumably because our houses used to be one, we have their stop cock in our house, so if we turn it off then nobody has any water. Meanwhile Robin the farrier was due, and texted to say he was running early. Early! What sort of horse professional arrives early for anything? I remonstrated with him but he was unrepentant, muttering something about refits. The boys were done first and I don't know why but I always feel a thrill of undeserved pride when Robin talks about how perfect Q's feet are, as it were anything to do with me. But they are perfect. Maybe I'll get some photos so you can see just how beautiful they are. And clean, in this weather, which is one of the few nice things about the snow|horse interface. Anyway - the girls were done next and behaved impeccably. Much less anxious. Again, pride, as though any of it were really anything to do with me instead of that amazing Luso temperament. OK we introduced them gradually but it's hardly rocket science.
Meanwhile Sid was trying to get home from London. The same old story that was repeated up and down the land - no trains, and very little information as to when one might be expected. Eventually he managed to get home about 4ish, making an 8 hour round trip for an hour and a half in the office and the collection of one laptop. I left him making a fire and finished off the yard, bringing the girls in, the goats, herding the chickens in, doing dinners etc etc practically dead on my feet by this stage and wondering how on earth I was going to summon the energy to hump 50 bales of hay shortly, when Pheel was due round with the Christmas consignment of hay. In the end we agreed that he'd send it round this morning instead, which was nice as I was completely and utterly battered by this stage and really, really needing to sit on my arse for a while.
So today I decided to take a different approach.Up at 6, as mentioned, and why not just get everything done first thing. Girls out, hayed round, mucked out x4 + goats, goats out etc etc, in quite short order. Hay arrived at 8:30, made the boys a cup of tea and the hay barn was stuffed to the brim by the time I went back out there. Timed that well :) So now all that remains today is to do waters and feeds and bring the girls in later, which leaves me several hours stretching ahead during which I can actually relax. But doing what? It seems I've forgotten how to sit about taking it easy and I keep thinking of all the things I could and should be doing. So I thought I know, I'll make a list. It's a useful thing to do but one which I can do from the comfort and warmth of indoors. So here's my list of the things I'd like to do over the holidays:
* clean out the feed room
* clean out the rug room
* clean out the grooming room
* tidy the bedroom DONE
* finish Christmas shopping
* arrange hay delivery DONE
* arrange for muck clamp emptying
* arrange for snow melt so I can ride
* milk Angie :wibble:
If I get all of this done I shall be (a) pleased and (b) knackered.
Yesterday I seemed to be at it ALL DAY. Why does that happen I wonder. Took ages to get both cars started in order to get the ovlov to the garage. Sid had to go in to work to collect his laptop, so once I got back from dropping him off I set about yard duties. OK so having everyone out in snowy fields with frozen troughs there is the ongoing requirement to minister to their needs for water and forage, which takes some time. The boys come and go as they please, and continue to do so now that we've flattened the bad bits outside the back of their stables (in a blizzard), but the girls need to be taken out and so do the goats. And it's not really necessary to put the beds up every day either. Technically I suppose it's not essential to take the boys' rugs off for a bit so they can roll and prance in the snow either. But this doesn't really explain how I can spend the best part of the day arsing around out there.
Dan next door had a mains water leak which necessitated turning off our stop cock. Presumably because our houses used to be one, we have their stop cock in our house, so if we turn it off then nobody has any water. Meanwhile Robin the farrier was due, and texted to say he was running early. Early! What sort of horse professional arrives early for anything? I remonstrated with him but he was unrepentant, muttering something about refits. The boys were done first and I don't know why but I always feel a thrill of undeserved pride when Robin talks about how perfect Q's feet are, as it were anything to do with me. But they are perfect. Maybe I'll get some photos so you can see just how beautiful they are. And clean, in this weather, which is one of the few nice things about the snow|horse interface. Anyway - the girls were done next and behaved impeccably. Much less anxious. Again, pride, as though any of it were really anything to do with me instead of that amazing Luso temperament. OK we introduced them gradually but it's hardly rocket science.
Meanwhile Sid was trying to get home from London. The same old story that was repeated up and down the land - no trains, and very little information as to when one might be expected. Eventually he managed to get home about 4ish, making an 8 hour round trip for an hour and a half in the office and the collection of one laptop. I left him making a fire and finished off the yard, bringing the girls in, the goats, herding the chickens in, doing dinners etc etc practically dead on my feet by this stage and wondering how on earth I was going to summon the energy to hump 50 bales of hay shortly, when Pheel was due round with the Christmas consignment of hay. In the end we agreed that he'd send it round this morning instead, which was nice as I was completely and utterly battered by this stage and really, really needing to sit on my arse for a while.
So today I decided to take a different approach.Up at 6, as mentioned, and why not just get everything done first thing. Girls out, hayed round, mucked out x4 + goats, goats out etc etc, in quite short order. Hay arrived at 8:30, made the boys a cup of tea and the hay barn was stuffed to the brim by the time I went back out there. Timed that well :) So now all that remains today is to do waters and feeds and bring the girls in later, which leaves me several hours stretching ahead during which I can actually relax. But doing what? It seems I've forgotten how to sit about taking it easy and I keep thinking of all the things I could and should be doing. So I thought I know, I'll make a list. It's a useful thing to do but one which I can do from the comfort and warmth of indoors. So here's my list of the things I'd like to do over the holidays:
* clean out the feed room
* clean out the rug room
* clean out the grooming room
* tidy the bedroom DONE
* finish Christmas shopping
* arrange hay delivery DONE
* arrange for muck clamp emptying
* arrange for snow melt so I can ride
* milk Angie :wibble:
If I get all of this done I shall be (a) pleased and (b) knackered.
Sunday 12 December 2010
Arse, meet sofa; it's been a while
Can we just take it as read now that every weekend is as busy as a really, really busy thing? Cos I've given up trying to convey just how busy it is. Ah good.
The power of persuasion
So I get to about 3.30pm on Friday and then it hits me, like the proverbial sack of excrement. I forgot to phone for Sid's prescription, that he'd specifically asked me to do and reminded me about only that morning. Arrghhh fuckety doodads. Prescription line closed, only one thing for it: call up the surgery and PLEAD. The result has to be some sort of record: from request to filled prescription in about 2.5 hours. This is what can happen when (a) you are very very very nice to people, and (b) the planets are favourably aligned.
Friday night: when Knickers and I returned home there was a chicken in Q's manger, which I only discovered when I was about to dump several sections of hay on her head. There were two in T's stable and the rest out the back. Took us about an hour and a half to do evening stables and attend to everyone, at which point the only thing to do was to retire indoors and bolt the door. Otherwise, fast food: check; Kopparberg cider: check Shitty film: check.Oh, and a message to say that students had reoccupied the Library.
Saturday
Knickers did earlies for me but I was up about 7:30 anyway. Why? you might reasonably enquire. Well, because there are only so many hours in the day and very few of those are conducted in daylight atm. Needs must and all that. Nevertheless I was feeling particularly battered and it somehow took me about an hour and a half to put up four beds, do waters and hay, and oversee the goats doing their thing about the yard. We've taken to letting the chickens out during the day (it's either that or they let themselves out anyway so we might as well maintain some vestige of an idea that it's us running the show).
Did the rounds of farm shop, feed merchants etc and that took me an hour and a half too. Quick restorative bacon butty and coffee (more a 15 minute affair) then back out there to work the boys. Lacking energy of any description I worked them both in hand, which is no bad thing after three weeks off. Both boys were full of the joys of, er, deepest winter and treated me to some very Big Trots indeed; T going for the power extension (jaw dropping) and Q for the passage, albeit one using no postural muscles whatsoever and his tail up over his bum like an Arabian, but a joy to behold. So nice to see them strutting their stuff and enjoying being horses.
It seemed to take ages to get everyone sorted in the evening, but this was because I was starting to feel rather overwrought with tiredness. Luckily Sid was cooking so I was able to take myself off for a nice hot bath clutching a mince pie and a glass of Baileys. Bliss.
The meal was fab, and turned into a bit of a celebration for Knickers having recently got two firsts and a 2-1 in her courseworks and Sid for having broken the back of a particularly testy piece of code. So we had chicken and asparagus soup to start, pheasant au vin (courtesy of Pheel) which was my first time eating pheasant - very nice - and sticky toffee pudding made by Knickers, all washed down with a very nice Amarone. Sid broke open the home made sloe gin and all I can say is Jesus Christ! To be handled with the greatest care.
Late night ensued.
Sunday
Knickers did earlies again and I was up about 8 to prep for morning lesson with Mandy. Somehow managed to be prepped and in the arena for 9:20, which was a bit previous since the lesson wasn't until 10, but still it made for a nice slow and considered warmup, no bad thing for T and his sticky stifle. At one end of the arena Q was charging at T with his ears laid back and at the other the mares (natch! every time without fail) chose to graze right next to the fence so T was doing the head down snaky neck herding thing. For my part I chose to ignore it all and just get on anyway. It was either that or just give up and go back indoors.
The lesson was excellent for two reasons. First, the first trot was soft and flowing and really rather splendid, so I was thrilled with that. The second was that we worked on some very nice forward and soft trot with him really out to the contact and relaxed. As he's quite a bit of a bigger mover than Q and I've had to put on my big girl pants to really just go forwards with him, this was really quite something and I could have ridden him all day. I could feel him flagging after a while though as he's had little work, so we finished before he felt the need to voice any concerns about it. Really thrilled with him!
What next: breakfast, quick ten minute sit and sort out everyone. Goats out and about on the yard, chickens also. Finish off beds, do waters, fill nets with haylage, fill hay mangers etc etc etc. Put goats out with T. All seems well. Took Puppy for a walk, went shopping. And at this juncture I really must pause for a moment and reflect on the deep irritation of othe old boy who works on the checkout at our local supermarket. I guess he's about 60 or so and he's a pleasant enough chap but I just wish he could find it within his heart to either (a) move at a pace a little further along the velocity quotient than "glacial" and indeed, it would be so much better if he could do something about that habit of his of thrusting each item at the bar code reader in a way that is both aggressive and deeply suspicious. Often as not, said bar code reader doesn't stand a chance in hell and the unfortunate customer then has to stand there while he taps in the bar code number with equal parts ferocity and pause. I find this an exquisite torture, to stand there while this wrongness is perpetuated time after time, and I literally have to grab myself around the throat to keep myself from screaming. I thank God there's not a precipitous cliff in the vicinity, or I might have had to fling myself off it before now. Likewise, it's just as well there's no handy vat of acid or implement for the plucking out of eyes, or I might well have done myself some serious mischief while standing there on innumerable occasions, waiting for him to complete this series of really rather simple tasks. And the worst of it is he is quite sweet. Just to finish off the boiling cauldron of emotions that he has perpetuated within, he dares at the conclusion to utter the words "have a nice evening". Or what's left of it, presumably.
When I finally made it back to Luso Towers, I made spag bol and industrial quantities of cauliflower cheese (ultimate comfort food) with the assistance of (a) Metallica and (b) a Kopparberg cider. Bring the girls in, feed round, and finally, at last, SIT ON ARSE. Eat copiously. And so endeth another weekend.
ONE MORE WEEK OF WORK BEFORE THE HOLS **WOOT**
The power of persuasion
So I get to about 3.30pm on Friday and then it hits me, like the proverbial sack of excrement. I forgot to phone for Sid's prescription, that he'd specifically asked me to do and reminded me about only that morning. Arrghhh fuckety doodads. Prescription line closed, only one thing for it: call up the surgery and PLEAD. The result has to be some sort of record: from request to filled prescription in about 2.5 hours. This is what can happen when (a) you are very very very nice to people, and (b) the planets are favourably aligned.
Friday night: when Knickers and I returned home there was a chicken in Q's manger, which I only discovered when I was about to dump several sections of hay on her head. There were two in T's stable and the rest out the back. Took us about an hour and a half to do evening stables and attend to everyone, at which point the only thing to do was to retire indoors and bolt the door. Otherwise, fast food: check; Kopparberg cider: check Shitty film: check.Oh, and a message to say that students had reoccupied the Library.
Saturday
Knickers did earlies for me but I was up about 7:30 anyway. Why? you might reasonably enquire. Well, because there are only so many hours in the day and very few of those are conducted in daylight atm. Needs must and all that. Nevertheless I was feeling particularly battered and it somehow took me about an hour and a half to put up four beds, do waters and hay, and oversee the goats doing their thing about the yard. We've taken to letting the chickens out during the day (it's either that or they let themselves out anyway so we might as well maintain some vestige of an idea that it's us running the show).
Did the rounds of farm shop, feed merchants etc and that took me an hour and a half too. Quick restorative bacon butty and coffee (more a 15 minute affair) then back out there to work the boys. Lacking energy of any description I worked them both in hand, which is no bad thing after three weeks off. Both boys were full of the joys of, er, deepest winter and treated me to some very Big Trots indeed; T going for the power extension (jaw dropping) and Q for the passage, albeit one using no postural muscles whatsoever and his tail up over his bum like an Arabian, but a joy to behold. So nice to see them strutting their stuff and enjoying being horses.
It seemed to take ages to get everyone sorted in the evening, but this was because I was starting to feel rather overwrought with tiredness. Luckily Sid was cooking so I was able to take myself off for a nice hot bath clutching a mince pie and a glass of Baileys. Bliss.
The meal was fab, and turned into a bit of a celebration for Knickers having recently got two firsts and a 2-1 in her courseworks and Sid for having broken the back of a particularly testy piece of code. So we had chicken and asparagus soup to start, pheasant au vin (courtesy of Pheel) which was my first time eating pheasant - very nice - and sticky toffee pudding made by Knickers, all washed down with a very nice Amarone. Sid broke open the home made sloe gin and all I can say is Jesus Christ! To be handled with the greatest care.
Late night ensued.
Sunday
Knickers did earlies again and I was up about 8 to prep for morning lesson with Mandy. Somehow managed to be prepped and in the arena for 9:20, which was a bit previous since the lesson wasn't until 10, but still it made for a nice slow and considered warmup, no bad thing for T and his sticky stifle. At one end of the arena Q was charging at T with his ears laid back and at the other the mares (natch! every time without fail) chose to graze right next to the fence so T was doing the head down snaky neck herding thing. For my part I chose to ignore it all and just get on anyway. It was either that or just give up and go back indoors.
The lesson was excellent for two reasons. First, the first trot was soft and flowing and really rather splendid, so I was thrilled with that. The second was that we worked on some very nice forward and soft trot with him really out to the contact and relaxed. As he's quite a bit of a bigger mover than Q and I've had to put on my big girl pants to really just go forwards with him, this was really quite something and I could have ridden him all day. I could feel him flagging after a while though as he's had little work, so we finished before he felt the need to voice any concerns about it. Really thrilled with him!
What next: breakfast, quick ten minute sit and sort out everyone. Goats out and about on the yard, chickens also. Finish off beds, do waters, fill nets with haylage, fill hay mangers etc etc etc. Put goats out with T. All seems well. Took Puppy for a walk, went shopping. And at this juncture I really must pause for a moment and reflect on the deep irritation of othe old boy who works on the checkout at our local supermarket. I guess he's about 60 or so and he's a pleasant enough chap but I just wish he could find it within his heart to either (a) move at a pace a little further along the velocity quotient than "glacial" and indeed, it would be so much better if he could do something about that habit of his of thrusting each item at the bar code reader in a way that is both aggressive and deeply suspicious. Often as not, said bar code reader doesn't stand a chance in hell and the unfortunate customer then has to stand there while he taps in the bar code number with equal parts ferocity and pause. I find this an exquisite torture, to stand there while this wrongness is perpetuated time after time, and I literally have to grab myself around the throat to keep myself from screaming. I thank God there's not a precipitous cliff in the vicinity, or I might have had to fling myself off it before now. Likewise, it's just as well there's no handy vat of acid or implement for the plucking out of eyes, or I might well have done myself some serious mischief while standing there on innumerable occasions, waiting for him to complete this series of really rather simple tasks. And the worst of it is he is quite sweet. Just to finish off the boiling cauldron of emotions that he has perpetuated within, he dares at the conclusion to utter the words "have a nice evening". Or what's left of it, presumably.
When I finally made it back to Luso Towers, I made spag bol and industrial quantities of cauliflower cheese (ultimate comfort food) with the assistance of (a) Metallica and (b) a Kopparberg cider. Bring the girls in, feed round, and finally, at last, SIT ON ARSE. Eat copiously. And so endeth another weekend.
ONE MORE WEEK OF WORK BEFORE THE HOLS **WOOT**
Sunday 5 December 2010
New superlative required
"Busy" doesn't quite cut it any longer. Even "busy as buggery" falls short.
To the day:
Knickers does earlies feeding round, I get a lie in. Finally forced out of my pit by the overwhelming cute snuffly noises coming from the other side of the bed around 7:30am.
Make tea, go outside. Get rug on Xacra, very easy. What a sweet girl. Alfama; not so much. Two person job. Give up, turn out both girls together. Might sound silly, but never put out two horses together before. Sweet. Tea is cold. Arses.
Let goats out. Angie incites Gwen to try shagging her after bleating all night for a passing billy without success. Gwen gives it her best shot, but her efforts are ultimately unsuccessful. Stable duties: skip out and tidy four stables. Steam hay. Put hay out for girls. Put the goats away. Go in for breakfast. Make bacon butties all round. Coffee. And tea, to make up for the one that went cold.
Back out on the yard. Bring goats out. Put in pen. Angie attempts to gore Gwen and Gerry. Hmmm. Take goats to paddock with lots of thistles. Eventually they settle and at least one thistle is consumed. At last! Some payback. Knickers poo picks, while I undertake some temporary fencing in two paddocks, so we can strip graze winter grazing. Girls go out on paddock next to Q. Q pleased; girls nonplussed. Goats go in their shelter. Woot! Knickers and I drag wheelbarrow full of poo back to yard. Very very hard work. It's a mud bath next to the girls' shelter.
Lunch, and a sit down for 15 mins. Yowser.
Afternoon doings. Waters, haylage, let chickens out, clean out chickens. Epic sweeping of yard. Work both boys. Prepare dinners and morning doings. Go in for a bit. Like, a whole hour!
Off to Pheel's house on top secret mission, involving cooing and snuggling. I've probably said too much already. Arrange for the perimeter to have stock proof fencing installed. No need to draw a picture as to why. Return with two pheasants.
Back from Pheel's. Temperature has plummeted. Bring girls in. This is a definite progress! Day 1: chase girls around for half an hour before coralling them in their shelter. Day 2: girls corral themselves in shelter within 5 mins. Day 3? Girls waiting at the gate :)
Feed round. Go indoors. Cook. Do blog.
Sometime during the next two hours: eat vast quantities and enjoy a small tipple of something suitable.
To the day:
Knickers does earlies feeding round, I get a lie in. Finally forced out of my pit by the overwhelming cute snuffly noises coming from the other side of the bed around 7:30am.
Make tea, go outside. Get rug on Xacra, very easy. What a sweet girl. Alfama; not so much. Two person job. Give up, turn out both girls together. Might sound silly, but never put out two horses together before. Sweet. Tea is cold. Arses.
Let goats out. Angie incites Gwen to try shagging her after bleating all night for a passing billy without success. Gwen gives it her best shot, but her efforts are ultimately unsuccessful. Stable duties: skip out and tidy four stables. Steam hay. Put hay out for girls. Put the goats away. Go in for breakfast. Make bacon butties all round. Coffee. And tea, to make up for the one that went cold.
Back out on the yard. Bring goats out. Put in pen. Angie attempts to gore Gwen and Gerry. Hmmm. Take goats to paddock with lots of thistles. Eventually they settle and at least one thistle is consumed. At last! Some payback. Knickers poo picks, while I undertake some temporary fencing in two paddocks, so we can strip graze winter grazing. Girls go out on paddock next to Q. Q pleased; girls nonplussed. Goats go in their shelter. Woot! Knickers and I drag wheelbarrow full of poo back to yard. Very very hard work. It's a mud bath next to the girls' shelter.
Lunch, and a sit down for 15 mins. Yowser.
Afternoon doings. Waters, haylage, let chickens out, clean out chickens. Epic sweeping of yard. Work both boys. Prepare dinners and morning doings. Go in for a bit. Like, a whole hour!
Off to Pheel's house on top secret mission, involving cooing and snuggling. I've probably said too much already. Arrange for the perimeter to have stock proof fencing installed. No need to draw a picture as to why. Return with two pheasants.
Back from Pheel's. Temperature has plummeted. Bring girls in. This is a definite progress! Day 1: chase girls around for half an hour before coralling them in their shelter. Day 2: girls corral themselves in shelter within 5 mins. Day 3? Girls waiting at the gate :)
Feed round. Go indoors. Cook. Do blog.
Sometime during the next two hours: eat vast quantities and enjoy a small tipple of something suitable.
Friday 3 December 2010
Progress
We ended up bringng the girls in last night as part of our drive to habituate them, and also to get their rugs on. This was quite an operation in tact since they've never had one on before, but they were amazing. So that was good. No attempts to get them off or anything, just acceptance. Gawd bless that Luso temperament.
At last it's stopped snowing but the situation with the trains was best described as diabolical, so working at home for the fourth day in a row. That doesn't mean a lie in though, of course. Lie ins are for Other People, although I did curl up on the sofa about 7ish for a while.
Popped out at lunch time to let the goats out and they all trucked along after me to the mares' field, who were happily munching on a big pile of hay. It gives you an idea what it must be like being part of a herd, because everywhere you go you're surrounded by goats. They came into the paddock with me and milled around while I cleaned the girls' shelter, then came to look over the goat shelter. At one point there were six of us clustered around a wheelbarrow full of hay, which was quite something I can tell you.
Dora came out with me, sporting her Puppy Parka, and the cats of course, gambolling and galloping around like the small furry and well-fed bundles of energy that they are, and the goats too. Our multi-species doings about the yard have taken on a whole new dimension. I mooched over to the picadeiro to collect the fork, and they all mooched over behind me: Angie, lagging behind, proceeded at a brisk waddle. Fork prcoured, I walked back up the yard and looked behind me to see them all tottering along to catch up. Feeling puckish, I started to run. Oh God - I'd have laid strong odds against Angie having a higher gear, but bugger me backwards over a rusty barn door if she didn't break into a gallop, along with the other two girls. I've never seen anything quite like it, and couldn't continue my run because I was too busy whooping with glee. There's nothing quite like a galloping goat, I've learned, especially a well-padded one, to raise your spirits.
It's about -6 or so tonight and we've brought the girls in again. Boys are in for the first night of the winter, mainly because heavy rain is expected tomorrow and at these temperatures it's going to turn the place into an ice rink. We'll make a small area outside the stables for them tomorrow so they can come and go a bit. If the girls' paddock is too dangerous they can go out in the picadeiro. The joys of winter.
At last it's stopped snowing but the situation with the trains was best described as diabolical, so working at home for the fourth day in a row. That doesn't mean a lie in though, of course. Lie ins are for Other People, although I did curl up on the sofa about 7ish for a while.
Popped out at lunch time to let the goats out and they all trucked along after me to the mares' field, who were happily munching on a big pile of hay. It gives you an idea what it must be like being part of a herd, because everywhere you go you're surrounded by goats. They came into the paddock with me and milled around while I cleaned the girls' shelter, then came to look over the goat shelter. At one point there were six of us clustered around a wheelbarrow full of hay, which was quite something I can tell you.
Dora came out with me, sporting her Puppy Parka, and the cats of course, gambolling and galloping around like the small furry and well-fed bundles of energy that they are, and the goats too. Our multi-species doings about the yard have taken on a whole new dimension. I mooched over to the picadeiro to collect the fork, and they all mooched over behind me: Angie, lagging behind, proceeded at a brisk waddle. Fork prcoured, I walked back up the yard and looked behind me to see them all tottering along to catch up. Feeling puckish, I started to run. Oh God - I'd have laid strong odds against Angie having a higher gear, but bugger me backwards over a rusty barn door if she didn't break into a gallop, along with the other two girls. I've never seen anything quite like it, and couldn't continue my run because I was too busy whooping with glee. There's nothing quite like a galloping goat, I've learned, especially a well-padded one, to raise your spirits.
It's about -6 or so tonight and we've brought the girls in again. Boys are in for the first night of the winter, mainly because heavy rain is expected tomorrow and at these temperatures it's going to turn the place into an ice rink. We'll make a small area outside the stables for them tomorrow so they can come and go a bit. If the girls' paddock is too dangerous they can go out in the picadeiro. The joys of winter.
Thursday 2 December 2010
Wintry doings
Unsurprisingly there is a theme running through all current doings, on account of the fact that it hasn't stopped snowing since Monday night. I had to take a view on Tuesday morning since the trains were best described as erratic. Delays and cancellations - ugh - so stayed home. I can't afford to be stranded away from home. At least we got a consignment of hay safely ensconced in the hay barn on Monday night - poor Knickers got roped in to help Mark and had just finished humping 50 bales as I got home from work. Good timing I thought.
Monday night: onset of snow; close off the summer paddocks; boys now only have access to winter paddocks. Had to up the ruggage in view of the Taters Factor of 10. Struggling to leave the girls unrugged; may have to bow to the intrinsic need to wrap them up.
Tuesday: snow. Working from home. Documentation for the most part, interspersed only by a dodgy moment during which I almost set fire to the house, all because I didn't put the grate part of the wood burner back together before starting a fire. Open doors to chuck in more wood; wallop. Logs fall out onto carpet. Result: one singed carpet; one very smoky room and a coughing Rach. Ack.
Ministering to creatures in the snow takes twice as long as it would ordinarily, but at least we could get it done during daylight hours.
Wednesday: usual 5:30 start: more snow. Trains: chaotic. Stay put. Start work 7am. No point going back to bed really. I enjoy being snowed in, with the proviso that there is sufficient food in for all the creatures. Also, it meant that I was at home when Bob came to deliver our two new charges, Nadja and Grace the ex-MoD goats. Ahhhh. Instructed to conduct introductions in a large space, we let them all out on the yard and would have stood back to watch were it not for a variety of bovids milling about among us, determined to conduct operations from behind someone's legs. This is all very well but a bit squeaky bum when there are horns involved and you're not quite sure how goat intros tend to go. Things went pretty well; predictably Angie took charge but generally speaking a good first encounter. Best bit was when I went off to get the hose to do waters and the three of them followed me to the garden :) I've become accustomed to being followed about by one goat, but three was something else again.
It hasn't stopped snowing at all and taking ages as a consequence to do the creatures. Alfama is coping well but Xacra has dropped a bit of weight, so keeping an eye on her. We decided to lay beds last night about 8pm just in case we have to bring them in. This involved relocating all the fencing and other tools that we stored in the remaining two spare stables through thick snow, and humping multiple bales of bedding. I wonder sometimes is we are quite mad, but it's there should we need it.
So we have nine stables and no spares left. How does that work? T in one, grooming room, rug room, Q, Angie, Nadja and Grace, the chickens, emergency stables for Xacra and Alfama. Eventually the goat stables will be freed up but not until this cold snap is over and they can go out in the field, and make use of the much anticipated shelter. Pheel (uber farmer and builder of Things) has been to inspect said shelter and gave us an 8/10 for effort, so we are thrilled. We got extra points for nailing on the onduline roof correctly.
And finally, we've had a trailer load (and I do mean a large trailer attached to a tractor type of load) of wood delivered to help keep us goingg through the winter.
Thursday: 7am and snowed in again. No trains going to London. Deep snow outside. Glands up and the beginnings of some unpleasantness. I think this is because I have stepped off the treadmill for a few days and wallop.
Monday night: onset of snow; close off the summer paddocks; boys now only have access to winter paddocks. Had to up the ruggage in view of the Taters Factor of 10. Struggling to leave the girls unrugged; may have to bow to the intrinsic need to wrap them up.
Tuesday: snow. Working from home. Documentation for the most part, interspersed only by a dodgy moment during which I almost set fire to the house, all because I didn't put the grate part of the wood burner back together before starting a fire. Open doors to chuck in more wood; wallop. Logs fall out onto carpet. Result: one singed carpet; one very smoky room and a coughing Rach. Ack.
Ministering to creatures in the snow takes twice as long as it would ordinarily, but at least we could get it done during daylight hours.
Wednesday: usual 5:30 start: more snow. Trains: chaotic. Stay put. Start work 7am. No point going back to bed really. I enjoy being snowed in, with the proviso that there is sufficient food in for all the creatures. Also, it meant that I was at home when Bob came to deliver our two new charges, Nadja and Grace the ex-MoD goats. Ahhhh. Instructed to conduct introductions in a large space, we let them all out on the yard and would have stood back to watch were it not for a variety of bovids milling about among us, determined to conduct operations from behind someone's legs. This is all very well but a bit squeaky bum when there are horns involved and you're not quite sure how goat intros tend to go. Things went pretty well; predictably Angie took charge but generally speaking a good first encounter. Best bit was when I went off to get the hose to do waters and the three of them followed me to the garden :) I've become accustomed to being followed about by one goat, but three was something else again.
It hasn't stopped snowing at all and taking ages as a consequence to do the creatures. Alfama is coping well but Xacra has dropped a bit of weight, so keeping an eye on her. We decided to lay beds last night about 8pm just in case we have to bring them in. This involved relocating all the fencing and other tools that we stored in the remaining two spare stables through thick snow, and humping multiple bales of bedding. I wonder sometimes is we are quite mad, but it's there should we need it.
So we have nine stables and no spares left. How does that work? T in one, grooming room, rug room, Q, Angie, Nadja and Grace, the chickens, emergency stables for Xacra and Alfama. Eventually the goat stables will be freed up but not until this cold snap is over and they can go out in the field, and make use of the much anticipated shelter. Pheel (uber farmer and builder of Things) has been to inspect said shelter and gave us an 8/10 for effort, so we are thrilled. We got extra points for nailing on the onduline roof correctly.
And finally, we've had a trailer load (and I do mean a large trailer attached to a tractor type of load) of wood delivered to help keep us goingg through the winter.
Thursday: 7am and snowed in again. No trains going to London. Deep snow outside. Glands up and the beginnings of some unpleasantness. I think this is because I have stepped off the treadmill for a few days and wallop.
Sunday 28 November 2010
Bloody Nora
God what a day! Had a lie in until about 9, which was just as well given the epic levels of activity that followed.
Morning doings: haylage all round, break the ice on the water troughs again. Angie out in her pen. Gather up chickens who have opted to take free range more literally than intended and return them to their run. Clean kitchen. Cup of tea. Scrambled eggs and toast. Nom. More tea. Clean meehoo room. Vacuum.
Weather forecast suggest that heavy snow is en route. Arrrghh. Must batten down hatches. Skip out/muck out boys and Angie, clean out field shelter and top up straw beds and wood chips. Sid chops industrial quantities of wood while wailing loudly and out of tune to his iPod. Do best to flatten poached area outside girls' shelter. Consider the need for girls to be confined to shelter, and the resulting need for further water buckets.
Trip to Charity Farm for supplies: water buckets, feed buckets for incoming goatages, wormers, broom. Stock up on supplies from farm shop. Stop by the hardware store for some metal brackets on the way home.
Meanwhile, Sid starts work on the goat shelter.More cutting of weatherboard to size. Afternoon preps: haylage all round, dinners, steam hay, water all round. Sounds easy when you say it quick but hoses and yard tap frozen so need to bring it all up from the house. Arrghhh. Bring Angie in. She makes a play for Sid's Belgian buns, but disaster is averted at the last. Put Angie away after she's wandered around the yard for half an hour helping herself to haylage, carrots, hay etc.
The final push on the goat shelter: board up back and sides. Sid makes a shutter on advice from Bob the goat man - they like to be able to see out so he made a flap which can be opened as needed. Put chicken in oven to roast. Gather in the meehoos and feed. Feed Puppy. Put roof on goat shelter. Attach metal tie rings to base to facilitate dragging. Yay! Finished.
Lash the goat shelter to the LandCruiser. Put mares away. Dismantle temporary electric fencing to facilitate passage of aforementioned LandCruiser and lashed-on shelter.
The operation to transfer the goat shelter form its site of construction in the middle of the yard to a suitable spot in the field commences, with Sid at the wheel. There's only one shot to get it through the field gate, but this passes without incident. There follows precision driving at a snail's pace, a bit like those programmes you see when people put a house on the back of a truck and transport it to a new location, albeit on a much smaller scale. Begin to hum theme tune from Dambusters. Shelter is aligned as planned, facing away from prevailing winds and the worst of the weather. Sorted. Clean up, put away tools. Remove chicken from oven.
The job is done. Under cover of darkness, the goat shelter has been completed and transferred to its new location. The sense of achievement is matched only by numbness of arse and feet.
God what a day!
Needless to say, the boys didn't get worked again. Perhaps I should try wearing my knickers outside my jods and se if that makes a difference.
Current status: roast chicken dinner, demolished. Chocolate pud with ice cream: seen off. All that remains is lates and a nice hot bath to ease muscles which are uttering noises that sound something like "Jesus wept!", "sodding hell" and "bloody Nora".
Morning doings: haylage all round, break the ice on the water troughs again. Angie out in her pen. Gather up chickens who have opted to take free range more literally than intended and return them to their run. Clean kitchen. Cup of tea. Scrambled eggs and toast. Nom. More tea. Clean meehoo room. Vacuum.
Weather forecast suggest that heavy snow is en route. Arrrghh. Must batten down hatches. Skip out/muck out boys and Angie, clean out field shelter and top up straw beds and wood chips. Sid chops industrial quantities of wood while wailing loudly and out of tune to his iPod. Do best to flatten poached area outside girls' shelter. Consider the need for girls to be confined to shelter, and the resulting need for further water buckets.
Trip to Charity Farm for supplies: water buckets, feed buckets for incoming goatages, wormers, broom. Stock up on supplies from farm shop. Stop by the hardware store for some metal brackets on the way home.
Meanwhile, Sid starts work on the goat shelter.More cutting of weatherboard to size. Afternoon preps: haylage all round, dinners, steam hay, water all round. Sounds easy when you say it quick but hoses and yard tap frozen so need to bring it all up from the house. Arrghhh. Bring Angie in. She makes a play for Sid's Belgian buns, but disaster is averted at the last. Put Angie away after she's wandered around the yard for half an hour helping herself to haylage, carrots, hay etc.
The final push on the goat shelter: board up back and sides. Sid makes a shutter on advice from Bob the goat man - they like to be able to see out so he made a flap which can be opened as needed. Put chicken in oven to roast. Gather in the meehoos and feed. Feed Puppy. Put roof on goat shelter. Attach metal tie rings to base to facilitate dragging. Yay! Finished.
The operation to transfer the goat shelter form its site of construction in the middle of the yard to a suitable spot in the field commences, with Sid at the wheel. There's only one shot to get it through the field gate, but this passes without incident. There follows precision driving at a snail's pace, a bit like those programmes you see when people put a house on the back of a truck and transport it to a new location, albeit on a much smaller scale. Begin to hum theme tune from Dambusters. Shelter is aligned as planned, facing away from prevailing winds and the worst of the weather. Sorted. Clean up, put away tools. Remove chicken from oven.
The job is done. Under cover of darkness, the goat shelter has been completed and transferred to its new location. The sense of achievement is matched only by numbness of arse and feet.
God what a day!
Needless to say, the boys didn't get worked again. Perhaps I should try wearing my knickers outside my jods and se if that makes a difference.
Current status: roast chicken dinner, demolished. Chocolate pud with ice cream: seen off. All that remains is lates and a nice hot bath to ease muscles which are uttering noises that sound something like "Jesus wept!", "sodding hell" and "bloody Nora".
Saturday 27 November 2010
Sanctuary visit
Thanks to the glory that is Knickers, I actually got a lie in this morning until about 8:30. Utter bliss.
At lunchtime we went to the local goat sanctuary to find a companion for Angie. Wow, what an unbelievable place! They have about 120 goats of all sizes and shapes, and an excellent setup; huge paddocks with big trees to climb on - much better than anything we have at home tbh. We had a bit of a wait for Bob to show us the possible candidates he had in mind, during which time we very nearly froze to death on a number of occasions.That's because it is completely and utterly TATERS at the moment. Just as we were about to beat a path back to the relative warmth of the car Bob arrived and showed us two pairs he'd had in mind. Max and Millie first, small goats and very sweet but Max has horns that stick straight up and Millie is quite bumptious, so perhaps not best for us as first time owners. The other pair are an older pair of hornless girls about the same size as Angie, called Nadja and Grace, very docile and sweet. The upshot is that they're being delivered on Wednesday at 2pm. They came from the MoD, where they were used in experiments in pressure chambers :/
What the hell are we doing?
Sid and I went to collect some more Weatherboard, which we need to finish the goat hotel. We had an idea to try to flatten the area outside the girls' shelter as it was frozen into peaks and troughs. Not having a roller or similar equipment, we used the LandCruiser, back and forth, back and forth, with only moderate success. Lots of poo picking and such ensued, sorting of the field shelter etc, all in the stinking, freezing temperatures that made me feel like my arse was going to fall right off. I'm not sure it's defrosted even now, some hours later.
The ultimate irony about this time of year is that there is quite a bit more to do to tend to all the creatures, and only a few hours of daylight into which to cram it all. There's so much to do, I don't really know where to start sometimes.
Tomorrow, the plan is to finish off the field shelter and I really must do something with the boys. We also need to stat on a shelter for the chickens, on account of their reluctance to seek protection in even the worst of the weather. Certainly, it's never boring.
At lunchtime we went to the local goat sanctuary to find a companion for Angie. Wow, what an unbelievable place! They have about 120 goats of all sizes and shapes, and an excellent setup; huge paddocks with big trees to climb on - much better than anything we have at home tbh. We had a bit of a wait for Bob to show us the possible candidates he had in mind, during which time we very nearly froze to death on a number of occasions.That's because it is completely and utterly TATERS at the moment. Just as we were about to beat a path back to the relative warmth of the car Bob arrived and showed us two pairs he'd had in mind. Max and Millie first, small goats and very sweet but Max has horns that stick straight up and Millie is quite bumptious, so perhaps not best for us as first time owners. The other pair are an older pair of hornless girls about the same size as Angie, called Nadja and Grace, very docile and sweet. The upshot is that they're being delivered on Wednesday at 2pm. They came from the MoD, where they were used in experiments in pressure chambers :/
What the hell are we doing?
Sid and I went to collect some more Weatherboard, which we need to finish the goat hotel. We had an idea to try to flatten the area outside the girls' shelter as it was frozen into peaks and troughs. Not having a roller or similar equipment, we used the LandCruiser, back and forth, back and forth, with only moderate success. Lots of poo picking and such ensued, sorting of the field shelter etc, all in the stinking, freezing temperatures that made me feel like my arse was going to fall right off. I'm not sure it's defrosted even now, some hours later.
The ultimate irony about this time of year is that there is quite a bit more to do to tend to all the creatures, and only a few hours of daylight into which to cram it all. There's so much to do, I don't really know where to start sometimes.
Tomorrow, the plan is to finish off the field shelter and I really must do something with the boys. We also need to stat on a shelter for the chickens, on account of their reluctance to seek protection in even the worst of the weather. Certainly, it's never boring.
Friday 26 November 2010
What a week
There are a small clutch of phrases suitable to describe a week like the one I've just had, but I think i will settle for "bleeding Nora". It's been a particular slog; packed with meetings and a great deal to be done wherever you look. On Wednesday I went to Roehampton Uni for a day with the suppliers of our helpdesk software, which was an excellent day, setting aside the 50 min trek along Roehampton Lane that was clearly advertised as a 20 minute walk but just as clearly wasn't. So whilst my planned arrival at Barnes for 9:40 to arrive at 10am seemed perfectly adequate in the inception stage, the actuality of it was rather different and I arrived at just a whisker before 10:30, perspiring moderately, full of bladder and desperate for coffee and breakfast, just as the seminar started.
That aside it was a good day and we all piled down to the pub afterwards for a well-deserved pint. I really like these guys and Roehampton is home from home now, so well beaten is the path between our campus and theirs.
Today I've said goodbye to a member of my team and taken in a new contractor for the intervening period, who has ingratiated himself very well actually by the simple expedient of buying me (a) some chips and curry sauce, and (b) a pint of Guinness in the pub tonight at the leaving do. Turns out the pub is like waiting for a bus; you don't see one for ages and then two come along in one week.
I know I've remarked on this already but it really is surprising just how many people seem to really like goats.
That aside it was a good day and we all piled down to the pub afterwards for a well-deserved pint. I really like these guys and Roehampton is home from home now, so well beaten is the path between our campus and theirs.
Today I've said goodbye to a member of my team and taken in a new contractor for the intervening period, who has ingratiated himself very well actually by the simple expedient of buying me (a) some chips and curry sauce, and (b) a pint of Guinness in the pub tonight at the leaving do. Turns out the pub is like waiting for a bus; you don't see one for ages and then two come along in one week.
I know I've remarked on this already but it really is surprising just how many people seem to really like goats.
Sunday 21 November 2010
Extremes of activity, and new developments
It's been a very very tiring but rewarding day. Up at 7.30 again for lesson on T with Mandy. Most of this one was in trot and I really feel I'm starting to get to grips with lots of things I hadn't really got a grip on. Really thrilled with this and for the first time today, I realised afterwards, I didn't have the slightest of butterflies about getting on him. After the lesson he shared another pile of haylage with Angie :)
This afternoon Knickers and I decided to take Angie with us to poo pick T's field. At first she loitered near his stable but when we rounded the corner she came over at what can best be described as a fast waddle just as T wandered over, and they had their first encounter at liberty. He was ace, really sweet and gentle. She was a little bit nervous and butted him on the nose, which gave us the opportunity to see what he looks like with an exclamation mark hovering over his head, and that was that. She came with us to poo pick, just like a dog would. What a fabulous creature she is.
Next we had a visit from Bob from the local goat sanctuary, who came to assess us as a potential adoption site. We'd cleaned up the yard to make everything spick and span for the inspection, and of course there was the small matter of the capacious goat hotel that is currently under construction in the middle of the yard. Bob was great and the upshot was that we're going to visit next weekend to look at potential companions for Angie.
A couple of Angie factoids:
* everyone who meets her seems to fall in love. Even as goats go, she's damn cute. A couple of farmer friends popped in to help us shift a bale of haylage midweek, and spent a pleasant half hour completely and utterly taking the piss out of us for getting a goat, particularly when it emerged that we'd paid for her. Then when they saw her "oh she's sweet isn't she", followed by "can I go in with her?"
* we were talking to the lady who works in the farm shop in the village, who used to work at the farm shop from whence Angie came, and bugger me if she didn't have a photo of Angie on her phone - driving a tractor. I kid you not. See what I did there?
Meanwhile the goat hotel "maison chevre" is coming on a treat.
This afternoon Knickers and I decided to take Angie with us to poo pick T's field. At first she loitered near his stable but when we rounded the corner she came over at what can best be described as a fast waddle just as T wandered over, and they had their first encounter at liberty. He was ace, really sweet and gentle. She was a little bit nervous and butted him on the nose, which gave us the opportunity to see what he looks like with an exclamation mark hovering over his head, and that was that. She came with us to poo pick, just like a dog would. What a fabulous creature she is.
Next we had a visit from Bob from the local goat sanctuary, who came to assess us as a potential adoption site. We'd cleaned up the yard to make everything spick and span for the inspection, and of course there was the small matter of the capacious goat hotel that is currently under construction in the middle of the yard. Bob was great and the upshot was that we're going to visit next weekend to look at potential companions for Angie.
A couple of Angie factoids:
* everyone who meets her seems to fall in love. Even as goats go, she's damn cute. A couple of farmer friends popped in to help us shift a bale of haylage midweek, and spent a pleasant half hour completely and utterly taking the piss out of us for getting a goat, particularly when it emerged that we'd paid for her. Then when they saw her "oh she's sweet isn't she", followed by "can I go in with her?"
* we were talking to the lady who works in the farm shop in the village, who used to work at the farm shop from whence Angie came, and bugger me if she didn't have a photo of Angie on her phone - driving a tractor. I kid you not. See what I did there?
Meanwhile the goat hotel "maison chevre" is coming on a treat.
Saturday 20 November 2010
Another quiet day at the homestead
Up at 7:30am, determined to get one of the boys done before Little Miss had her post-spay follow up vet check I decided to put Angie out in the pen behind the stables first, then off T and I went for our session, during which time I discovered that one way to get him to ignore the mares is to have a goat on her hind legs watching proceedings from the other side of the fence.
Afterwards when I put him out, he went to have a sniff at Angie and I decided to put out some haylage on either side of the fence. Shortly afterwards they were sharing the pile in what was possibly the cutest thing I've ever seen. I have high hopes that he'll be happy to share some space with a goat or two. He stayed there with her all morning!
Knickers and I took Little Miss to vitnery (all fine), dropped her back home then went shopping, which constituted a boot full of sacks of feed for the creatures and a bag full of veggies, some bread and local free range bacon for us, grabbing some unhealthy but yummy pastry thing from the bakery on the way through.
Raised the Kracken from his pit; he and Knickers went in search of a new chain for the chainsaw, only to find a complete dearth of them everywhere. Turns out Pheel has the facilities to make chains of any specification, so off they went to Pheel's to have one made. Is there no end to the man's talents? Sid now also has workshop envy :) and there is the small matter of the Springer x Lab puppies, just a week old ... Oh God.
Meanwhile I did some cleaning of the yard and a variety of jobs before getting Q in to ride. Hmm I thought, when we got to the yard, he seems uncommonly lively. In fact so unsettled and utterly "up" was he that I thought hmm, I know, I'll do some ground work. And as well I did, as the hunt was in the area (when I say in the area, I mean in the next property) and it set everyone off - the mares were charging around bucking, and Q ran and ran and ran. All I could really do was stand in the middle, watching. Not the most productive of sessions and all that could really be said of it was that it certainly dealt with any beans he might have had and, being unclipped, he was a complete sweaty mess by the end of it. Good job they're supposed to let people know when they're in the area isn't it, otherwise they'd be a bunch of red-coated tossers with an unfeasibly large number of dogs and a dearth of common decency.
Next on the agenda: the reason for the chainsaw - our latest building project - the goat shelter. Oh yes! So far we've made the base frame and the vertical poles, and tomorrow we'll start putting up the walls. Might move it first before it gets too heavy, or risk it being marooned in the centre of the yard, for ever.
Our reward for these endeavours: a well-stocked wood burner, Indian takeaway and a nice bottle of Kopparberg. Splendid.
Afterwards when I put him out, he went to have a sniff at Angie and I decided to put out some haylage on either side of the fence. Shortly afterwards they were sharing the pile in what was possibly the cutest thing I've ever seen. I have high hopes that he'll be happy to share some space with a goat or two. He stayed there with her all morning!
Knickers and I took Little Miss to vitnery (all fine), dropped her back home then went shopping, which constituted a boot full of sacks of feed for the creatures and a bag full of veggies, some bread and local free range bacon for us, grabbing some unhealthy but yummy pastry thing from the bakery on the way through.
Raised the Kracken from his pit; he and Knickers went in search of a new chain for the chainsaw, only to find a complete dearth of them everywhere. Turns out Pheel has the facilities to make chains of any specification, so off they went to Pheel's to have one made. Is there no end to the man's talents? Sid now also has workshop envy :) and there is the small matter of the Springer x Lab puppies, just a week old ... Oh God.
Meanwhile I did some cleaning of the yard and a variety of jobs before getting Q in to ride. Hmm I thought, when we got to the yard, he seems uncommonly lively. In fact so unsettled and utterly "up" was he that I thought hmm, I know, I'll do some ground work. And as well I did, as the hunt was in the area (when I say in the area, I mean in the next property) and it set everyone off - the mares were charging around bucking, and Q ran and ran and ran. All I could really do was stand in the middle, watching. Not the most productive of sessions and all that could really be said of it was that it certainly dealt with any beans he might have had and, being unclipped, he was a complete sweaty mess by the end of it. Good job they're supposed to let people know when they're in the area isn't it, otherwise they'd be a bunch of red-coated tossers with an unfeasibly large number of dogs and a dearth of common decency.
Next on the agenda: the reason for the chainsaw - our latest building project - the goat shelter. Oh yes! So far we've made the base frame and the vertical poles, and tomorrow we'll start putting up the walls. Might move it first before it gets too heavy, or risk it being marooned in the centre of the yard, for ever.
Our reward for these endeavours: a well-stocked wood burner, Indian takeaway and a nice bottle of Kopparberg. Splendid.
Wednesday 17 November 2010
Bastards
After a torrid couple of days of commuting, constituting about a month's worth of misery crammed into two days, I feel I must issue forth in some detail about the experience. Before I begin I will however grant that ordinarily the service is very reliable and good, and only relatively rarely are there problems - this is one benefit of using trains that routinely do the entire Kent coast.
So yesterday we had delays and cancellations both in and out of London, so I wasn't really expecting any problems today because frankly that would be ridiculous. As a result you could have bent me over and buggered me sideways and I wouldn't have been more surprised than I already was to discover that the 6:50 to London had been cancelled. Again. Well - I say cancelled, but it was worse than that. Because it was delayed outside Ashford for more than 20 minutes, some middle manager somewhere took the view that in order to try to restore balance, what they'd do is **miss out our station altogether** in order to make up some time. Right. So what they're effectively saying is that the thousands upon thousands of pounds that the village (and its collective) commuting community spends on its annual commute is somehow of less value than that of someone from, say, Tonbridge. That's bollocks, that is. The level of polite indignation among the commuters was quite extraordinary. One man even suggested people should complain!
There's a particular kind of irritation associated with this sort of thing when you've been up since 5:30am and attended to 4 horses, 5 cats, a dog and a goat, you've showered and ironed your clobber and still made it out the door by 6:35, only to be faced with a 20 minute wait at the station in the freezing cold when you could have been at home stuffing haynets or fussing goats. So we (the assembled throng) await the 7:10 and Jane, the nice lady at the station, keeps us amused with barely veiled cynicism about the whole sorry process, and we chortle gently, partly mollified at least by All Being In It Together.
Naturally enough, the 7:10 is late, and then crawls up the tracks in such way that I idly wonder if things would proceed more quickly if I were to get out and walk, or attempt to pick it up and chuck it up the track myself. Eventually we arrive in London and there follows the inevitable loitering for a connection, and eventually I make it into the office, some two and a half hours after I left home.
The working day proceeds more or less as planned, except because of my late arrival at the office, I remain for the commensurate period and leave the office around 5. Get to the station only to see the 17:08 wafting out of the station, but don't concern myself because the 17:11 will be along in exactly 3 minutes' time. Or will it. It's only when I arrive on the platform that I become aware of the tannoy message informing me that, due to signalling problems at Cannon Street, the 17:11 is cancelled. And the 17:18, the 17:23, 28 and 33. Arses.
So I sit and make myself as comfortable as it is possible to be on a fixed metal seat on a cold night in November on an exposed railway platform in South London, and watch a procession of trains go through the station without stopping. 17:39 comes and goes; no train. It is advertised, but rather ominously with no time attached to it. I'd barely clung on to my good temper by consideration that with good luck and a dearth of further fuck ups I could somehow make it to London Brige in time for the 17:49, but that soon dissipated like the remnants of a fog on a sunny morning, to be replaced by gathering dark clouds and forked lightning. By this time the platform was heaving with bodies, the like of which has not been seen since the last signalling problem at Cannon Street. In the end it was 4 minutes short of an hour that I stood or sat on that sodding platform. Eventually the train arrived at a shade after 6pm and off we went to London Bridge.
Upon arrival I thought I know, I'll go and check the main board for the train times. I waded through the sea of bodies to the boards, only to find that the next train was in 1 minute. Arrghh. I already knew, looking at the mass of bodies that lay between me and my target, that there was no way on this earth that I was going to get there in time, but just for the extra piquancy of the moment I was permitted to arrive just in time to see the fucking thing pull out of the station. I almost lost it at that moment.
I, along with 50,000 others, milled about on the relevant platforms waiting for news and listening to the announcements, as advised. Luckily for me my sister Bulse called and restored my good humour, or I might have run amok at any moment. Thanks babe, that was a life saver.
The final straw for me was the rich lilting Caribbean accent of the staff member announcing the 18:36 to West Weeeck-ham (mon), in so doing drawing a near perfect image of sun, sand, palm trees, rum and reggae, the complete antithesis of a cold and miserable evening spent on a variety of railway platforms in South London. I couldn't help but smile to myself. At least I think it was a smile, but it may have been a rictus grimace.
The long and the short of the sorry tale was that I arrived home just after 8pm, some three hours after I left the office. That makes a grand total of five and a half hours' commuting today.
The only saving grace was coming home to a roaring fire, home made soup, the fact that Knickers had done the boys (including feet for the first time!), some new woolly socks and a set of lamb footrot shears for when vitnery comes to attend to Angie and the horses tomorrow.
So yesterday we had delays and cancellations both in and out of London, so I wasn't really expecting any problems today because frankly that would be ridiculous. As a result you could have bent me over and buggered me sideways and I wouldn't have been more surprised than I already was to discover that the 6:50 to London had been cancelled. Again. Well - I say cancelled, but it was worse than that. Because it was delayed outside Ashford for more than 20 minutes, some middle manager somewhere took the view that in order to try to restore balance, what they'd do is **miss out our station altogether** in order to make up some time. Right. So what they're effectively saying is that the thousands upon thousands of pounds that the village (and its collective) commuting community spends on its annual commute is somehow of less value than that of someone from, say, Tonbridge. That's bollocks, that is. The level of polite indignation among the commuters was quite extraordinary. One man even suggested people should complain!
There's a particular kind of irritation associated with this sort of thing when you've been up since 5:30am and attended to 4 horses, 5 cats, a dog and a goat, you've showered and ironed your clobber and still made it out the door by 6:35, only to be faced with a 20 minute wait at the station in the freezing cold when you could have been at home stuffing haynets or fussing goats. So we (the assembled throng) await the 7:10 and Jane, the nice lady at the station, keeps us amused with barely veiled cynicism about the whole sorry process, and we chortle gently, partly mollified at least by All Being In It Together.
Naturally enough, the 7:10 is late, and then crawls up the tracks in such way that I idly wonder if things would proceed more quickly if I were to get out and walk, or attempt to pick it up and chuck it up the track myself. Eventually we arrive in London and there follows the inevitable loitering for a connection, and eventually I make it into the office, some two and a half hours after I left home.
The working day proceeds more or less as planned, except because of my late arrival at the office, I remain for the commensurate period and leave the office around 5. Get to the station only to see the 17:08 wafting out of the station, but don't concern myself because the 17:11 will be along in exactly 3 minutes' time. Or will it. It's only when I arrive on the platform that I become aware of the tannoy message informing me that, due to signalling problems at Cannon Street, the 17:11 is cancelled. And the 17:18, the 17:23, 28 and 33. Arses.
So I sit and make myself as comfortable as it is possible to be on a fixed metal seat on a cold night in November on an exposed railway platform in South London, and watch a procession of trains go through the station without stopping. 17:39 comes and goes; no train. It is advertised, but rather ominously with no time attached to it. I'd barely clung on to my good temper by consideration that with good luck and a dearth of further fuck ups I could somehow make it to London Brige in time for the 17:49, but that soon dissipated like the remnants of a fog on a sunny morning, to be replaced by gathering dark clouds and forked lightning. By this time the platform was heaving with bodies, the like of which has not been seen since the last signalling problem at Cannon Street. In the end it was 4 minutes short of an hour that I stood or sat on that sodding platform. Eventually the train arrived at a shade after 6pm and off we went to London Bridge.
Upon arrival I thought I know, I'll go and check the main board for the train times. I waded through the sea of bodies to the boards, only to find that the next train was in 1 minute. Arrghh. I already knew, looking at the mass of bodies that lay between me and my target, that there was no way on this earth that I was going to get there in time, but just for the extra piquancy of the moment I was permitted to arrive just in time to see the fucking thing pull out of the station. I almost lost it at that moment.
I, along with 50,000 others, milled about on the relevant platforms waiting for news and listening to the announcements, as advised. Luckily for me my sister Bulse called and restored my good humour, or I might have run amok at any moment. Thanks babe, that was a life saver.
The final straw for me was the rich lilting Caribbean accent of the staff member announcing the 18:36 to West Weeeck-ham (mon), in so doing drawing a near perfect image of sun, sand, palm trees, rum and reggae, the complete antithesis of a cold and miserable evening spent on a variety of railway platforms in South London. I couldn't help but smile to myself. At least I think it was a smile, but it may have been a rictus grimace.
The long and the short of the sorry tale was that I arrived home just after 8pm, some three hours after I left the office. That makes a grand total of five and a half hours' commuting today.
The only saving grace was coming home to a roaring fire, home made soup, the fact that Knickers had done the boys (including feet for the first time!), some new woolly socks and a set of lamb footrot shears for when vitnery comes to attend to Angie and the horses tomorrow.
Sunday 14 November 2010
Goatie goodness
Every day is a busy day here at Luso Towers, but some days are definitely busier than others. Yesterday was one such. Up early to ride Q, while T had a mad half hour charging around, bucking and doing caprioles for no apparent reason other than that he could. Poo picked (and for those who have never had the pleasure of dragging or pushing a wheelbarrow full of sodden poo through a mud bath, be glad that it's almost impossible to describe the experience), prepped a stable and then went off to the farm shop to collect Angie. She's a real darling, loves a fuss and I swear she recognised us from the last time we went to see her.
Rather than the sledgehammer/walnut scenario of taking the horse trailer to fetch her, we borrowed Karen's stock trailer. She loaded like a pro and off we went back home. Unloaded and put her in the stable, left Knickers with her while I took the trailer back.
There's a pen at the back of the boys' stables which we thought would be ideal for her so we took her in there to see what happened. Within seconds she'd put her head and a front leg through the lowest of the post and rail gaps, so back she went to the stable and we set to with a 50m roll of stock proof fencing. Within not very long at all (especially once we hit on the idea of using a large pair of pruning shears as wire cutters) we'd got the pen lined with stock proof fencing and were feeling pretty pleased with ourselves. 4:30pm and dark though so no chance to put her in there, and I had to go and run a few errands.
Sunday
This morning I had a lesson on T to look forward to. When I went to fetch him he came charging up the field doing a Big Trot (TM) which IMO is something of an achievement in such a wet field, apparently filled with the desire to urgently acquaint himself with Dan's horses, on the walker. Clearly a blokeish day. We had what can best be described as a dodge-off, with him wanting to charge off back down the field and me blocking him, which went on for a few minutes before he won. Off I tootled down the field to fetch him.
He hadn't been ridden or otherwise worked all week and was clearly feeling "well". What with that and the added complication of Angie's presence and her tendency to stand on her hind legs at the stable door, I was wondering how to minimise any potential surprises, particularly while sat astride half a ton of supremely athletic stallion. Put Angie out in her pen, or not? Tether her nearby? I'm not a fan of tethering tbh but there it is. In the end I decided it would be best to leave her where she was and introduce her and T before we went to the arena. T was ace - fascinated and pumped of neck for a while there but chilled and with a lovely soft look in his eyes. I have half a hope she could be a companion for him.
We had a good warm up with lunge and in hand work, and he was good as gold. Not fussed by Angie calling or indeed by me calling back to her to tell her everything was ok. Mandy arrived, on I got and he felt really good. We're working on him reaching out to the bit within a range of activities including LY, SI and transitions to trot. Each week I feel improvements which is quite a thing since I hadn't ridden him since the last lesson, but I feel he is more confident in reaching to the contact and we had some really nice transitions and sitting trot before the heavens opened and down it came. Lots of interesting feels to store away and think on. Really pleased with him. Even on a loose rein walking directly towards the girls he maintained focus so maybe next week I'll leave them in the next field. Or maybe not :)
The next order of business was to take Angie for a walk, once it stopped raining. Goats, you see, are very susceptible to bad weather. The immediate thing that did me in was how much better she was on the lead than yesterday. The mares came to the gate with that look of intense interest, to investigate. We went in the picadeiro, the mares came along and grazed apparently uninterestedly right by the fence. Then we went in their field and there followed a period of very interested sniffing on the part of the girls, and a study of standing still followed by huddling up to me for support on the part of Angie. Man, she's sweet.
We walked around the field so Q could see her and he was absolutely agog. He's such a drama queen. Big trots and snorting, then stopping, head right up on full alert like a big Portuguese meerkat, then trotting off to have a pop at T, presumably to reaffirm his manliness. He dursn't let us too near, and it seemed she was much less scary if she stood still than if she *gasp* MOVED! Horrors!
The plan for the afternoon was to build her a shelter in the pen, but we were stymied by a number of issues, not the least of which was the weather. So we will have to limp along for a while. But she does need a chum - she was bleating when Knickers went out first thing to feed, and also when I went out for my lesson, so this needs to be addressed asap. Poor girl. But as I said to her, better lonely for a few days than having your head chopped off.
Need to get vitnery to look her over as her feet are overgrown and need attention. Her knees already look better though.
I wasn't prepared for what an utterly charming creature she is. She loves a fuss, has bonded to us for reassurance and is just really sweet. The thing that really kills me is the noise she makes while munching - I've never heard anything so sweet. That's probably weird. Knickers suggested I record it and then use it as a ring tone. Genius! I bet noboy else on earth has the sound of a goat munching as a ring tone, and if they do I really need to meet them.
Otherwise, we did loads of yard doings in the rancid, pissing rain, cleaned the stables, cleared out the hay barn and had Pheel round to empty the muck clamp, before retiring indoors.
Rather than the sledgehammer/walnut scenario of taking the horse trailer to fetch her, we borrowed Karen's stock trailer. She loaded like a pro and off we went back home. Unloaded and put her in the stable, left Knickers with her while I took the trailer back.
There's a pen at the back of the boys' stables which we thought would be ideal for her so we took her in there to see what happened. Within seconds she'd put her head and a front leg through the lowest of the post and rail gaps, so back she went to the stable and we set to with a 50m roll of stock proof fencing. Within not very long at all (especially once we hit on the idea of using a large pair of pruning shears as wire cutters) we'd got the pen lined with stock proof fencing and were feeling pretty pleased with ourselves. 4:30pm and dark though so no chance to put her in there, and I had to go and run a few errands.
Sunday
This morning I had a lesson on T to look forward to. When I went to fetch him he came charging up the field doing a Big Trot (TM) which IMO is something of an achievement in such a wet field, apparently filled with the desire to urgently acquaint himself with Dan's horses, on the walker. Clearly a blokeish day. We had what can best be described as a dodge-off, with him wanting to charge off back down the field and me blocking him, which went on for a few minutes before he won. Off I tootled down the field to fetch him.
He hadn't been ridden or otherwise worked all week and was clearly feeling "well". What with that and the added complication of Angie's presence and her tendency to stand on her hind legs at the stable door, I was wondering how to minimise any potential surprises, particularly while sat astride half a ton of supremely athletic stallion. Put Angie out in her pen, or not? Tether her nearby? I'm not a fan of tethering tbh but there it is. In the end I decided it would be best to leave her where she was and introduce her and T before we went to the arena. T was ace - fascinated and pumped of neck for a while there but chilled and with a lovely soft look in his eyes. I have half a hope she could be a companion for him.
We had a good warm up with lunge and in hand work, and he was good as gold. Not fussed by Angie calling or indeed by me calling back to her to tell her everything was ok. Mandy arrived, on I got and he felt really good. We're working on him reaching out to the bit within a range of activities including LY, SI and transitions to trot. Each week I feel improvements which is quite a thing since I hadn't ridden him since the last lesson, but I feel he is more confident in reaching to the contact and we had some really nice transitions and sitting trot before the heavens opened and down it came. Lots of interesting feels to store away and think on. Really pleased with him. Even on a loose rein walking directly towards the girls he maintained focus so maybe next week I'll leave them in the next field. Or maybe not :)
The next order of business was to take Angie for a walk, once it stopped raining. Goats, you see, are very susceptible to bad weather. The immediate thing that did me in was how much better she was on the lead than yesterday. The mares came to the gate with that look of intense interest, to investigate. We went in the picadeiro, the mares came along and grazed apparently uninterestedly right by the fence. Then we went in their field and there followed a period of very interested sniffing on the part of the girls, and a study of standing still followed by huddling up to me for support on the part of Angie. Man, she's sweet.
We walked around the field so Q could see her and he was absolutely agog. He's such a drama queen. Big trots and snorting, then stopping, head right up on full alert like a big Portuguese meerkat, then trotting off to have a pop at T, presumably to reaffirm his manliness. He dursn't let us too near, and it seemed she was much less scary if she stood still than if she *gasp* MOVED! Horrors!
The plan for the afternoon was to build her a shelter in the pen, but we were stymied by a number of issues, not the least of which was the weather. So we will have to limp along for a while. But she does need a chum - she was bleating when Knickers went out first thing to feed, and also when I went out for my lesson, so this needs to be addressed asap. Poor girl. But as I said to her, better lonely for a few days than having your head chopped off.
Need to get vitnery to look her over as her feet are overgrown and need attention. Her knees already look better though.
I wasn't prepared for what an utterly charming creature she is. She loves a fuss, has bonded to us for reassurance and is just really sweet. The thing that really kills me is the noise she makes while munching - I've never heard anything so sweet. That's probably weird. Knickers suggested I record it and then use it as a ring tone. Genius! I bet noboy else on earth has the sound of a goat munching as a ring tone, and if they do I really need to meet them.
Otherwise, we did loads of yard doings in the rancid, pissing rain, cleaned the stables, cleared out the hay barn and had Pheel round to empty the muck clamp, before retiring indoors.
Friday 12 November 2010
Doodads, literally
So today was the day that I'd booked in the meehoos to be castrated/sterilised, as applicable. I'm such a sap, I hate doing it and I particularly hate the hours leading up to it, when they mill around me with that particular aura about them: "Mom, did you forget to feed us?". A policy of avoidance only goes so far because they're there, tickling the back of your frontal lobe from a different room, sending out distress signals involving empty bellies and food. And I can't explain to them when they come to me saying "Mom, what are you doing, you definitely forgot to feed us" that I haven't in fact forgotten, it's just that they're undergoing a GA to facilitate the removal of their gonads in a few hours' time, for which an empty belly is an important prerequisite. And indeed, were I able to explain it to them, I'm not convinced it would be that much better from their perspective, when the obvious responses would be "OH GOD NO!" quickly followed by "but WHY?".
The hour came, I got the cat boxes out of the garage and in they went, easy as pie. On the 20 or so minute journey to Cranbrook, there was only minimal wailing, which was good. However, about halfway there I suddenly became aware of an unholy odour creeping stealthily around the car, only to burst with appalling clarity in my nose; the sort of stench which can only ever emanate from a cat's arse. Hmmm. Nothing for it but to engage mind control and Keep Driving.
Upon arrival at the surgery, they invited me to take a seat in the waiting room. I did so, with both cat boxes arrayed at my feet, hoping it wouldn't be too long. I sat and waited, and waited some more, and all the while the surrounding air became saturated with the unmistakable aroma of cat poo, while for my part my eyes started bleeding and my nostrils slammed shut. One of the receptionists walked by and remarked "Ooooh, someone's done a poo" which, from my particular vantage point, was a completely unhelpful and unnecessary contribution to the proceedings. Clearly such observational skills as she possessed did not permit her to register the fact that my face had gone green and my eyes had melted and thus had a better than average chance of being aware of this development already. Eventually the vet arrives and we go through to the consulting room for the pre-op check. "Oooh" she said, "someone's done a poo".
And there it was. My betrayal complete, I left them to the surgeon's scalpel and returned to Luso Towers feeling miserable and guilty. The only thing to do in such a situation was to tootle over to the farm shop to visit with Angelina, the new addition to our family, and to buy some produce whilst we were there. We discovered that we needed a CPH number in order to keep a goat and that this must be obtained prior to transport taking place. I therefore spoke to a very helpful young man at the RPA who upgraded my request to critical (woop woop!) and informed me that I should receive my CPH number some time later in the day.
Knickers and I went to McVeighs, purveyors of all farm equipment, whereupon we purchased a range of items suitable for constructing (a) a goat shed, and (b) a covered area for the chickens, whose talents do not include the sense to stay indoors when it is cold and wet and miserable, and who therefore leave themselves vulnerable to chills. The plan is to knock in four fence posts (necessitating a post basher), for each of the corners, then use weatherboard on the back and sides, with an onduline roof (necessitating sheets of onduline, a kilo of staples, 100 onduline-specific nails and some 2x4 rails to use as roof struts). We also purchased a 50m roll of stock fencing, which will be used to secure her pen against escape attempts of the cunning bovid variety. We can use existing chipboard to make a raised bed, for goats, it seems, like a raised bed. This will be much cheaper than buying something ready made. I had a cunning plan to create a goat hay rack out of some pallets after I found a recipe for one on the Internet, but was stymied at the last by the fact that there were no pallets to be had. Will have to develop a plan B for this.
The impluse purchase of the day was a an implement called a Wood Pekka, used to split large logs into smaller ones. This is timely because we have a lot of big logs, but less and less small ones, so we got one. Upon arriving home with said goodies and eating some soup (roasted butternet squash), Knickers and I amused ourselves by splitting enough logs to fill the log container thingie, in about ten minutes flat! Wowser.
We also added a layer of wood chips to Xacra's side of the field shelter, poo picked the shelter and the field and went off to get the meehoos, by now divested of their doodads and ready to come home. And very please to come home they were, milling about, gazing up at me in that glorious trusting way that they have, apparently bearing me no ill will at all for the day's events, but still wanting some FOOD.
I now have my CPH number and tomorrow we go to collect Angelina.
The hour came, I got the cat boxes out of the garage and in they went, easy as pie. On the 20 or so minute journey to Cranbrook, there was only minimal wailing, which was good. However, about halfway there I suddenly became aware of an unholy odour creeping stealthily around the car, only to burst with appalling clarity in my nose; the sort of stench which can only ever emanate from a cat's arse. Hmmm. Nothing for it but to engage mind control and Keep Driving.
Upon arrival at the surgery, they invited me to take a seat in the waiting room. I did so, with both cat boxes arrayed at my feet, hoping it wouldn't be too long. I sat and waited, and waited some more, and all the while the surrounding air became saturated with the unmistakable aroma of cat poo, while for my part my eyes started bleeding and my nostrils slammed shut. One of the receptionists walked by and remarked "Ooooh, someone's done a poo" which, from my particular vantage point, was a completely unhelpful and unnecessary contribution to the proceedings. Clearly such observational skills as she possessed did not permit her to register the fact that my face had gone green and my eyes had melted and thus had a better than average chance of being aware of this development already. Eventually the vet arrives and we go through to the consulting room for the pre-op check. "Oooh" she said, "someone's done a poo".
And there it was. My betrayal complete, I left them to the surgeon's scalpel and returned to Luso Towers feeling miserable and guilty. The only thing to do in such a situation was to tootle over to the farm shop to visit with Angelina, the new addition to our family, and to buy some produce whilst we were there. We discovered that we needed a CPH number in order to keep a goat and that this must be obtained prior to transport taking place. I therefore spoke to a very helpful young man at the RPA who upgraded my request to critical (woop woop!) and informed me that I should receive my CPH number some time later in the day.
Knickers and I went to McVeighs, purveyors of all farm equipment, whereupon we purchased a range of items suitable for constructing (a) a goat shed, and (b) a covered area for the chickens, whose talents do not include the sense to stay indoors when it is cold and wet and miserable, and who therefore leave themselves vulnerable to chills. The plan is to knock in four fence posts (necessitating a post basher), for each of the corners, then use weatherboard on the back and sides, with an onduline roof (necessitating sheets of onduline, a kilo of staples, 100 onduline-specific nails and some 2x4 rails to use as roof struts). We also purchased a 50m roll of stock fencing, which will be used to secure her pen against escape attempts of the cunning bovid variety. We can use existing chipboard to make a raised bed, for goats, it seems, like a raised bed. This will be much cheaper than buying something ready made. I had a cunning plan to create a goat hay rack out of some pallets after I found a recipe for one on the Internet, but was stymied at the last by the fact that there were no pallets to be had. Will have to develop a plan B for this.
The impluse purchase of the day was a an implement called a Wood Pekka, used to split large logs into smaller ones. This is timely because we have a lot of big logs, but less and less small ones, so we got one. Upon arriving home with said goodies and eating some soup (roasted butternet squash), Knickers and I amused ourselves by splitting enough logs to fill the log container thingie, in about ten minutes flat! Wowser.
We also added a layer of wood chips to Xacra's side of the field shelter, poo picked the shelter and the field and went off to get the meehoos, by now divested of their doodads and ready to come home. And very please to come home they were, milling about, gazing up at me in that glorious trusting way that they have, apparently bearing me no ill will at all for the day's events, but still wanting some FOOD.
I now have my CPH number and tomorrow we go to collect Angelina.
Sunday 7 November 2010
One year on
A year ago yesterday we moved all our worldly goods and chattels two miles up the road in two large removal vans, a Land Cruiser and an Ifor Williams trailer to begin a much anticpiated (not to say rather costly) new chapter in our lives on a small and only partly formed farm project.Getting to that stage was in itself a triumph of optimism and an eye on the main prize over a sustained set of setbacks, stresses and tribulations that would have tested the patience of a really rather patient person, let alone that of an irascible Frenchman and a woman for whom tolerance has been only recently discovered country.
The first order of business was to get set up for the boys to arrive on the day we completed ownership, and to that end, once we'd exchanged contracts we got Pheel in to do industrial levels of post and rail fencing. This in itself required a lot of juggling and negotiation in terms of access to the land and the order in which things had to be done, but we got it done because we had to, and that's one of the best drivers I know to get something done.
The day arrived; we moved all our worldy goods and chattels as discussed... and then spent several hours waiting for the previous owners to finish moving out while people hung about outside and got increasingly jittery, not the least of which was the gaggle of removal men whose task it was to assist us and whose prime driver was to bugger off home asap, as the clock ticked on towards 5pm, dark encroached and for extra effect, it started pissing down.
Unfortunately the weather had turned consistently wet and rancid in the weeks prior to our arrival and the yard as a consequence looked something like this when we moved in:
The whole circumstance of the move took place under rather freakish conditions, in that the previous owners stayed on at the yard with their horses; the deal being that they took care of the boys in return for the use of five stables over the winter. This suited us fine at the time - it was a big help on the one hand but also awkward on the other, for all concerned.
Meanwhile, we faced the immediate choice of kayaking up to the yard several times a day or getting in some hardstanding, so we went for the latter option and beat a path with the aid of several tons of hardcore, thus:
The next priority was to install, as a matter of some urgency, an area in which we could work the boys, so once again Pheel was called in and set to to build us a picadeiro on the cheap (cheap being a relative term), which doubles as an all weather turnout that pretty much saved (a) our bacon, and (b) the boys' sanity during periods of sustained ice and snow when it wasn't safe to turn them out.
Winter came and went and with it a great deal of snow, during which coping was the main activity. Some days the weather was so bad that beating a path through the snow and wind to the yard was bad enough, let alone anything else, and we got through heroic quantities of hay, haylage and carrots. Not to mention road salt, beating a path to the picadeiro from the yard. This phase will henceforth be remembered as our Path-beating Period.
Spring
With the arrival of spring, we faced a number of dilemmas. Lots of things needing to be done but we couldn't get on with any of them until some significant changes took place. The previous owners still had a couple of mobile stables on the yard, which was to be the site for the new muck clamp, and it really needed to go before the rest of the hardstanding went in. A date was set for them to move their horses out; March 21st, the spring solstice.
We also had to do something with all that top soil that was scraped up in preparation for the hardstanding going down, and took the decision to spread it at one end of what would be Q's access paddock and the mares' winter grazing. We then spent some while considering that this might have been an error, but in fact nature takes its course and with a spring roll and reseed of the paddocks, things started to happen, grass began growing over it and all was well after all.
Summer work - the arena
The next big project was the much-anticipated arena, and a giant loan to fund it. It took approximately two weeks to complete and was ready in the middle of July. Noboy mentioned that I would have to then sit and look at it for two weeks while it settled, or that we would be waiting weeks and weeks and WEEKS for a decent shower to help bed it in. I can say with some authority that attempting to do this with a garden sprinkler is a fool's hope and no good can come of it. One thing we've learnt about having a place with land is you really need tools appropriately sized for the task at hand, or you mightn't as well bother.
Raised beds
One idea we had to use up some of that top soil and also to add some much needed greenery to the proceedings was to create some raised beds around the car park and plant loads of hawthorn (by loads I mean 100) around it. Hawthorn particularly because it is one of the few hedging plants that is not toxic to horses. So we created a range of raised beds around the back and along the sides of the car park, one giant fuck-off bed along the side that borders with our neighbours, and three raised beds in the front garden which will be used to grow veggies, but which we didn't quite get around to this year.
The mares arrive!
In the late spring we received the glad tidings that both Xacra and Alfama were confirmed in foal, so we could instigate arrangements for them to begin their journey home from Portugal. This necessitated the purchase and construction of a field shelter in preparation and a great deal of running around going "wheeee!". This was the third time I have been on tenterhooks awaiting the arrival of a John Parker lorry delivering its precious Portuguese cargo and I'm not sure the excitement ever gets any less, particularly as we hadn't seen them in a long time. The morning dragged on interminably but eventually they arrived, walked off the lorry calm as you like and settled down to graze as though they'd lived here for years:
It's true that the trailer still needs a swill but hopefully we can be forgiven that minor transgression in view of the large amount of doings that have been done. It's no small matter doing all this in one's spare time (that and earning the money to pay other people to do it) while simultaneously enjoying (!) a more than three hour daily commute and a full time full-on job, but somehow we have been doing it for a year.
We've turned our hand to many things, from fence-fixing in the bitter cold on the darkest nights, to building a run and a shelter for the chickens, and all sorts of things that happen on a daily basis when there is land and horses to take care of. I can't pretend it's not hard work; it is. There are many sacrifices to having the horses at home and sometimes I am so tired I can hardly see straight. But is it worth it? Absolutely. There is nothing on earth that I have found so fulfilling as having everyone at home and being at liberty to manage them exactly as we consider to be the right way. If something needs doing, then it is up to us to do it and if it doesn't get done then we only have ourselves to blame. There's a lot to be said for that.
Looking forward
In many ways the adventure is only just beginning. Knickers is now living with us and proving to be a huge help, we have six chickens laying six eggs a day like clockwork, and next spring there is the small matter of our two new arrivals to look forward to, and decisions to be made as to the next steps for breeding. We're thinking, all being well, of breeding Q to Xacra and T to Alfama, and have some decisions to make as to whether this will be live cover or AI. We also need to start promoting the boys as stallions and I really, really need to get my arse in ear to get out there and do some competing. I'm having weekly lessons on T now and my dear hope and ambition for him is that we can develop our relationship to a state where I can take him out and compete him as well as Q.
So it's not as if having done all this work we can sit back on our arses and take it easy; no way!
To Dancing Green, and all who sail in her.
The first order of business was to get set up for the boys to arrive on the day we completed ownership, and to that end, once we'd exchanged contracts we got Pheel in to do industrial levels of post and rail fencing. This in itself required a lot of juggling and negotiation in terms of access to the land and the order in which things had to be done, but we got it done because we had to, and that's one of the best drivers I know to get something done.
The day arrived; we moved all our worldy goods and chattels as discussed... and then spent several hours waiting for the previous owners to finish moving out while people hung about outside and got increasingly jittery, not the least of which was the gaggle of removal men whose task it was to assist us and whose prime driver was to bugger off home asap, as the clock ticked on towards 5pm, dark encroached and for extra effect, it started pissing down.
Unfortunately the weather had turned consistently wet and rancid in the weeks prior to our arrival and the yard as a consequence looked something like this when we moved in:
The whole circumstance of the move took place under rather freakish conditions, in that the previous owners stayed on at the yard with their horses; the deal being that they took care of the boys in return for the use of five stables over the winter. This suited us fine at the time - it was a big help on the one hand but also awkward on the other, for all concerned.
Meanwhile, we faced the immediate choice of kayaking up to the yard several times a day or getting in some hardstanding, so we went for the latter option and beat a path with the aid of several tons of hardcore, thus:
You can still see the sea of mud surrounding the hardcore, but it was a start.
The next priority was to install, as a matter of some urgency, an area in which we could work the boys, so once again Pheel was called in and set to to build us a picadeiro on the cheap (cheap being a relative term), which doubles as an all weather turnout that pretty much saved (a) our bacon, and (b) the boys' sanity during periods of sustained ice and snow when it wasn't safe to turn them out.
The picadeiro under construction.
Winter came and went and with it a great deal of snow, during which coping was the main activity. Some days the weather was so bad that beating a path through the snow and wind to the yard was bad enough, let alone anything else, and we got through heroic quantities of hay, haylage and carrots. Not to mention road salt, beating a path to the picadeiro from the yard. This phase will henceforth be remembered as our Path-beating Period.
Spring
With the arrival of spring, we faced a number of dilemmas. Lots of things needing to be done but we couldn't get on with any of them until some significant changes took place. The previous owners still had a couple of mobile stables on the yard, which was to be the site for the new muck clamp, and it really needed to go before the rest of the hardstanding went in. A date was set for them to move their horses out; March 21st, the spring solstice.
This was a typical scene from the bedroom window prior to the departure date.
The mobile stables are there on the left, behind the straw bales. Notice also the
giant molehill that has appeared from the first batch of hardstanding.
Alone at last
It was always going to be tricky, sharing a property with someone who once owned it but no longer does. There were things we could all have handled better but didn't, so it was quite a thing when the date itself loomed and they began packing. It was surprisingly emotional for me and I did feel for them, leaving. It also meant that we could crack on with all the work that needed doing.
Also, the boys at long last started their 24/7 turnout, something I have wanted for them since time began.
First things first, the hardstanding. Quickly followed by...
...the muck clamp. Yay!
Spring Arrivals
Then there was the small matter of cats arriving on the scene, quite obviously homeless and hungry. Sid was adamant that he didn't want any more cats and I was adamant that I couldn't let them starve, so I started feeding them. There was a ginger tom, still with orbs attached, and a smaller black cat whom I initially took to be a boy but her swelling belly soon gave the lie to that and revealed her to be a pregnant queen. She was terribly shy while he was much more friendly; I named them Binky and Ted.
One day while I was at work, Binky had one of her babies on the patio. Sid rang me all in a lather, wanting to know what to do. The upshot was that Binky and her new family were brought into the house so that she could raise them in a safe environment...
This is the sort of thing that happens when you take pity
on a stray cat who turns out to be a pregnant queen :)
We've kept two of the meehoos (Jim and Little Miss, the latter who famously turned up mewling piteously in our kitchen roof one morening in late spring) and of course Binky and Ted are still with us, now suitably divested of their reproductive equipment, and we are back to being a five cat household.
Fencing, Round II
A second batch of fencing was needed to prepare for the mares' arrival. I did have a rare old time riding Q around the large paddock prior to this, but we could not postpone the inevitable and so the next thing was for Pheel, his giant Massey and bevy of helpers to descend once more upon the homestead and install the next lot of fencing. The stallion paddock was divided lengthwise into two and the mares' field was divided up into two decent sized ones plus a smaller one which would serve as an access point for Q between his winter and summer paddocks, the point being that the boys could always gain access to their stables for shelter, whether from summer or winter paddocks.
Pheel hard at it with his Massey
The boys enjoying their summer turnout
Summer work - the arena
The next big project was the much-anticipated arena, and a giant loan to fund it. It took approximately two weeks to complete and was ready in the middle of July. Noboy mentioned that I would have to then sit and look at it for two weeks while it settled, or that we would be waiting weeks and weeks and WEEKS for a decent shower to help bed it in. I can say with some authority that attempting to do this with a garden sprinkler is a fool's hope and no good can come of it. One thing we've learnt about having a place with land is you really need tools appropriately sized for the task at hand, or you mightn't as well bother.
One newly minted arena with flexiride surface
Raised beds
One idea we had to use up some of that top soil and also to add some much needed greenery to the proceedings was to create some raised beds around the car park and plant loads of hawthorn (by loads I mean 100) around it. Hawthorn particularly because it is one of the few hedging plants that is not toxic to horses. So we created a range of raised beds around the back and along the sides of the car park, one giant fuck-off bed along the side that borders with our neighbours, and three raised beds in the front garden which will be used to grow veggies, but which we didn't quite get around to this year.
One giant raised bed, with leylandi along the fence line.
This will be given over to wild flowers and grasses.
A small selection of the many hawthorn bushes, compost and
railway sleepers that went into creating all the raised beds.
The mares arrive!
In the late spring we received the glad tidings that both Xacra and Alfama were confirmed in foal, so we could instigate arrangements for them to begin their journey home from Portugal. This necessitated the purchase and construction of a field shelter in preparation and a great deal of running around going "wheeee!". This was the third time I have been on tenterhooks awaiting the arrival of a John Parker lorry delivering its precious Portuguese cargo and I'm not sure the excitement ever gets any less, particularly as we hadn't seen them in a long time. The morning dragged on interminably but eventually they arrived, walked off the lorry calm as you like and settled down to graze as though they'd lived here for years:
Finally, all the horses at home together :)
One year on
So it's been a year of quite phenomenal (a) activity, (b) expense and (c) excitement. We've undertaken more than I ever thought possible and the view from the bedroom window now looks something like this:
We've turned our hand to many things, from fence-fixing in the bitter cold on the darkest nights, to building a run and a shelter for the chickens, and all sorts of things that happen on a daily basis when there is land and horses to take care of. I can't pretend it's not hard work; it is. There are many sacrifices to having the horses at home and sometimes I am so tired I can hardly see straight. But is it worth it? Absolutely. There is nothing on earth that I have found so fulfilling as having everyone at home and being at liberty to manage them exactly as we consider to be the right way. If something needs doing, then it is up to us to do it and if it doesn't get done then we only have ourselves to blame. There's a lot to be said for that.
Looking forward
In many ways the adventure is only just beginning. Knickers is now living with us and proving to be a huge help, we have six chickens laying six eggs a day like clockwork, and next spring there is the small matter of our two new arrivals to look forward to, and decisions to be made as to the next steps for breeding. We're thinking, all being well, of breeding Q to Xacra and T to Alfama, and have some decisions to make as to whether this will be live cover or AI. We also need to start promoting the boys as stallions and I really, really need to get my arse in ear to get out there and do some competing. I'm having weekly lessons on T now and my dear hope and ambition for him is that we can develop our relationship to a state where I can take him out and compete him as well as Q.
So it's not as if having done all this work we can sit back on our arses and take it easy; no way!
To Dancing Green, and all who sail in her.
Wednesday 3 November 2010
Nothing substantive
So Sid's out for the evening with his second wife (Rob) and may come home slightly the worse for wear and brandishing a bicycle tyre. If it's only slightly worse for wear this will constitute some sort of miracle. Meanwhile Knickers and I are home alone at Luso Towers and she has a new laptop, at which she is tapping away feverishly, much like I am, writing this. The philosophical question is, is this some modern act of communion or the ultimate in small bubbles of contemporary isolation? I can for example just as easily send her a message on Facebook as I can open my mouth and say something. The possibilities are endless.
Meanwhile, once more we have no hot water. Again. Even now the immersion heater is sat there in the cupboard, utterly inscrutable, keeping the secrets of its malfunction deep within. It's only two months or so since we last bussed in a range of professionals to inspect it and coax it back to life again, and it's sitting there again, resolutely vestigial.
That's really it. I did indicate that nothing substantive had occurred.
Meanwhile, once more we have no hot water. Again. Even now the immersion heater is sat there in the cupboard, utterly inscrutable, keeping the secrets of its malfunction deep within. It's only two months or so since we last bussed in a range of professionals to inspect it and coax it back to life again, and it's sitting there again, resolutely vestigial.
That's really it. I did indicate that nothing substantive had occurred.
Tuesday 2 November 2010
Christ on a bike
The last two days at work are best described as "bloody busy", interviewing for 3 vacant positions, with an associated procession of some 14 bodies. That's a lot of bodies. I've barely seen the boys but thank dawg Sid and Knickers have been feeding and generally ministering to their requirements. It's a complete arse being the only bugger getting up in the morning though while everyone else is loitering with student-like indolence or hacking away feverishly on a keyboard at home while I drag my weary, knackered carcass into town and back every sodding day. WHY is our institution so utterly backwards about flexible working?
I finally called Cats Protection today about neutering vouchers for Jim and Little Miss, and while I was at it I rang Rolvenden Cat Rescue to enquire about the two of Binky's daughters that they took to rehome - only to find that they are still there :( Bugger, I wasn't expecting that. The good news is they have been spayed and are in the house, but the guilt trip is just awful even though we've acquired 4 cats ourselves out of it with Binky, Ted, Jim and Little Miss. At one point they were housing **84** cats. 84! And I thought our feed bill was intense. The mind boggles about what would happen to all those cats if it weren't for these dedicated people. It makes me so sad. If I won the lottery I'd probably go wholesale into a large rescue place, and even that would merely be a drop in the ocean. It's no good having these thoughts; it's too big and hoary a problem to contemplate at an individual level other than doing what we can for the creatures we have, and supporting favoured charities. Sigh.
I finally called Cats Protection today about neutering vouchers for Jim and Little Miss, and while I was at it I rang Rolvenden Cat Rescue to enquire about the two of Binky's daughters that they took to rehome - only to find that they are still there :( Bugger, I wasn't expecting that. The good news is they have been spayed and are in the house, but the guilt trip is just awful even though we've acquired 4 cats ourselves out of it with Binky, Ted, Jim and Little Miss. At one point they were housing **84** cats. 84! And I thought our feed bill was intense. The mind boggles about what would happen to all those cats if it weren't for these dedicated people. It makes me so sad. If I won the lottery I'd probably go wholesale into a large rescue place, and even that would merely be a drop in the ocean. It's no good having these thoughts; it's too big and hoary a problem to contemplate at an individual level other than doing what we can for the creatures we have, and supporting favoured charities. Sigh.
Sunday 31 October 2010
Back up to speed
Thursday evening we had a lovely meal and I was feeling well, if inordinately tired. Some time during the night I awoke with a stomach lined with concrete and passed some considerable time in the environs of the bog, or curled up in a small ball next to the bog, or writhing around going "arrrghh" and "mmmph", followed inevitably by "weh!". I don't know why this only happened to me, but clearly I couldn't blame Sid's cooking if nobody else was affected. Unsurprisingly, next morning greeted me with stomach cramps and a giant, pounding headache. I can now say with some authority that getting up to feed round at 5:30am after such an event is (a) very unpleasant, and (b) more time-consuming than could reasonably be expected. Had to stay off work and nurse myself gently through the day doing very little, trying not to be blokeish. The headache was still there late afternoon and into the evening, so an early night was called for. Except that when I went to bed and looked out the bathroom window I saw a set of headlights rather incongruusly driving about in our neighbour John's fields, opposite. Had to call him and he went out there to investigate, while Sid piled outside with an implement of Japanese persuasion, just in case self defence might be required, while I followed him out with my, erm, torch. Headlights disappeared, John was ok so we then had to check the fields, Sid with his implement of Japanese persuasion and me with my, erm, torch.
Knickers bless her took pity on me and offered to feed round this morning, which meant an uninterrupted lie in til 8am. Bliss! 8am arrives; I wake thinking "fuck! Tessa's coming at half nine and the kitchen is rancid; better get my arse in gear". Kitchen cleaned, random loose chickens restored to their pen, Tessa arrives, we catch up. Q had a bit of tightness in his wither area and Sid had his neck fixed, I made a fish stock and some bacon butties. Sent Sid and Knickers shopping while I put up a new fence line and dug a wheelbarrow full of thistles out of the girls' winter paddock, before preparing for a lesson on T with Mandy. As the weather was nice, I'd made the fundamental error of taking the boys' rugs off so that they could enjoy the sun on their backs and, inevitably, they had rolled in the muddiest areas: T was a mud monster requiring less a robust grooming brush than a hammer and chisel. We got a decent warmup in; although he was quite distracted he settled and relaxed before Mandy arrived and we had what turned out to be a great lesson. A moment's excitement when Sid was trying to cover his car with a car cover, which set T off - he scuttled forward but only to the end of the rein and that was that. What a good lad. Have resolved to have a lesson every week now so very much looking forward to that.
Afterwards, removed the harrow from the girls' winter paddock, took the opportunity to harrow their current paddock, rearranged the temporary electric fence to section it off, called Sid and Knickers to come and witness, and let the girls out into their new pasture. Oh! the big trots and tails right up over their backs, what a beautiful sight. We don't often get to see them move but when they do they really go for it! Wow. It took about 5 seconds for Q to spot the new development and about the same for T. Poor Q was doing his Best Trot (TM) up and down the fence and the girls were alternatively trotting around larging it up, and stopping to graze, ignoring him utterly and in my view, quite ostentatiously. Left them to it, went to clean out their shelter and wrestle the muck heap into submission, feed round and retreat indoors to:
* build two fires
* chop a shedload of onions
* take a shower
* vacuum
* light loads of candles
just in time for Liz and Tim to arrive for dinner. We haven't seen them for ages and it was really good to catch up over an excellent bouillabaisse (Sid), bangers and bubble & squeak with red wine onion gravy and spinach (me and Knickers) and sticky toffee pudding (Knickers) plus lashings of wine and a roaring fire. Fab night, ate way too much and had a good giggle :)
A very busy, productive and enjoyable day.
Knickers bless her took pity on me and offered to feed round this morning, which meant an uninterrupted lie in til 8am. Bliss! 8am arrives; I wake thinking "fuck! Tessa's coming at half nine and the kitchen is rancid; better get my arse in gear". Kitchen cleaned, random loose chickens restored to their pen, Tessa arrives, we catch up. Q had a bit of tightness in his wither area and Sid had his neck fixed, I made a fish stock and some bacon butties. Sent Sid and Knickers shopping while I put up a new fence line and dug a wheelbarrow full of thistles out of the girls' winter paddock, before preparing for a lesson on T with Mandy. As the weather was nice, I'd made the fundamental error of taking the boys' rugs off so that they could enjoy the sun on their backs and, inevitably, they had rolled in the muddiest areas: T was a mud monster requiring less a robust grooming brush than a hammer and chisel. We got a decent warmup in; although he was quite distracted he settled and relaxed before Mandy arrived and we had what turned out to be a great lesson. A moment's excitement when Sid was trying to cover his car with a car cover, which set T off - he scuttled forward but only to the end of the rein and that was that. What a good lad. Have resolved to have a lesson every week now so very much looking forward to that.
Afterwards, removed the harrow from the girls' winter paddock, took the opportunity to harrow their current paddock, rearranged the temporary electric fence to section it off, called Sid and Knickers to come and witness, and let the girls out into their new pasture. Oh! the big trots and tails right up over their backs, what a beautiful sight. We don't often get to see them move but when they do they really go for it! Wow. It took about 5 seconds for Q to spot the new development and about the same for T. Poor Q was doing his Best Trot (TM) up and down the fence and the girls were alternatively trotting around larging it up, and stopping to graze, ignoring him utterly and in my view, quite ostentatiously. Left them to it, went to clean out their shelter and wrestle the muck heap into submission, feed round and retreat indoors to:
* build two fires
* chop a shedload of onions
* take a shower
* vacuum
* light loads of candles
just in time for Liz and Tim to arrive for dinner. We haven't seen them for ages and it was really good to catch up over an excellent bouillabaisse (Sid), bangers and bubble & squeak with red wine onion gravy and spinach (me and Knickers) and sticky toffee pudding (Knickers) plus lashings of wine and a roaring fire. Fab night, ate way too much and had a good giggle :)
A very busy, productive and enjoyable day.
Sunday 24 October 2010
Equine communion
It's been a mixed weekend what with one thing and another and I've either been too busy or too tired to do anything with the boys until today. This is a bummer, what with daylight hours now being at such a premium, but can't be helped and I've learned the hard way that things done when feeling "meh" are at best uninspired. They're out all day anyhoo so it's not like they're cooped up in a stable.
The day dawned cold but sunny; Q first, my pipe and slippers man, shade of my heart, apple of my eye. I had thought he might be a bit lively, what with the cold and such, but no, energy conservation cranked up to max. We spent most of the session revising a more honest contact on the right rein, combined with more activity. He has learnt the lesson well and I felt better able to maintain it than previously. Saved any lateral work for afterwards and the test was the half-pass right, where often he'll tilt his head at the poll, but didn't this time, so that was great. A lovely ride.
Next Mr T. I'm still at the stage where I often make excuses for not riding him, to my chagrin, and as a result of this we have regressed a bit so that the softness we'd achieved in our trot work had farked orf. I knew today was going to be a good day; he had that look of soft, liquid vlvet in his eyes and was so chilled throughout the grooming and preps, none the worse for the rocket fuel haylage I've just started feeding. We had a good, considered warm up during which he seemed to be very much enjoying the stretching and gymnasticising work, and we had that mental connection that I'm only rarely in a place to participate in but which is quite, quite magical when it happens and makes everything else seem incidental.
He was just as lovely under saddle; calm and soft and attentive, the best he has felt for me in a long long time. He was just there with whatever I asked in the lateral work; LY, SI, HP, and best of all very nice and soft in the trot, enabling us to work through a load of school shapes and pay no attention whatsoever to the mares next door, the shooting in the woods or the chainsawing that Sid was doing in the wood pile. I could have ridden him all afternoon, beautiful beautiful boy.
It's done wonders to restore the balance in my head, which has been skewed for quite a while as a result of a lot of unnecessary bollocks, and it's brought me back full circle to a renewed appreciation for our beloved herd and how utterly worthwhile it all is even when at the lowest point it all seems so hard and relentless. The real lesson in it all is to remember to be in the moment wherever possible and never, ever allow work to get out of its box.
The day dawned cold but sunny; Q first, my pipe and slippers man, shade of my heart, apple of my eye. I had thought he might be a bit lively, what with the cold and such, but no, energy conservation cranked up to max. We spent most of the session revising a more honest contact on the right rein, combined with more activity. He has learnt the lesson well and I felt better able to maintain it than previously. Saved any lateral work for afterwards and the test was the half-pass right, where often he'll tilt his head at the poll, but didn't this time, so that was great. A lovely ride.
Next Mr T. I'm still at the stage where I often make excuses for not riding him, to my chagrin, and as a result of this we have regressed a bit so that the softness we'd achieved in our trot work had farked orf. I knew today was going to be a good day; he had that look of soft, liquid vlvet in his eyes and was so chilled throughout the grooming and preps, none the worse for the rocket fuel haylage I've just started feeding. We had a good, considered warm up during which he seemed to be very much enjoying the stretching and gymnasticising work, and we had that mental connection that I'm only rarely in a place to participate in but which is quite, quite magical when it happens and makes everything else seem incidental.
He was just as lovely under saddle; calm and soft and attentive, the best he has felt for me in a long long time. He was just there with whatever I asked in the lateral work; LY, SI, HP, and best of all very nice and soft in the trot, enabling us to work through a load of school shapes and pay no attention whatsoever to the mares next door, the shooting in the woods or the chainsawing that Sid was doing in the wood pile. I could have ridden him all afternoon, beautiful beautiful boy.
It's done wonders to restore the balance in my head, which has been skewed for quite a while as a result of a lot of unnecessary bollocks, and it's brought me back full circle to a renewed appreciation for our beloved herd and how utterly worthwhile it all is even when at the lowest point it all seems so hard and relentless. The real lesson in it all is to remember to be in the moment wherever possible and never, ever allow work to get out of its box.
Friday 22 October 2010
Howay the girls II
Day off today (yay!) which began as usual at 5:30am feeding round then back to bed with a cup of tea and book, and a couple of hours' kip. Sid is away in Amsterdam on business; been really missing him but the one good thing is the lack of "cute snuffly noises" at night and a better than average sleeping pattern as a result.
Probably could have stayed in bed for rather longer but was dragged into a state of consciousness by Pheel, on the blower to apologise for not having been round as arranged last night to remove a bad bale of haylage, on account of being pinned under a car after the jack collapsed. Luckily he'd dragged a spare tyre underneath as a secondary precaution and was thus saved from serious injury. With Pheel, you never really know what mad thing has happened that means he hasn't been able to keep a prearranged appointment and I was once more glad I wasn't at immediate pains to text him about the staple gun and the pole in the garden as a result of his not turning up.
What better way to spend a day off than wandering about the homestead, inspecting fencing, the rate of grass growth, poo picking and removing the boys' rugs so that they could run and roll in their furry splendour, enjoying late autumnal sun. Splendid. Did a bit of shopping and back sharpish for a 2pm appointment with Robin the farrier.
I'm so proud of our girls and in awe once more at the splendour that is the temperament of the Lusitano horse. Today was only their second appointment, which was a bit delayed as Robin had hurt his back. Xacra has quite a big crack in the right hind hoof and I was concerned about it, so in the absence of anything else I was trying to apply some linseed oil. Her response? Front feet: concern but ok, if I approached very very calmly and lowered myself slowly towards her feet, and as long as Knickers was at her head providing calmness and moral support (Knickers incidentally is showing great promise with a very calm reassuring way with the girls). Back feet however, less easy and I ended up lashing the brush to the end of a long whip and using that, as the last thing I need is my head being kicked off. So I was trying not to think of what she'd do with Robin and whether she'd kick his head clean off.
We did Alfama first, who was less anxious, though nervous still, and this time she had a full trim and rasp all the way round. Having never been rasped before it was obviously a strange sensation but she was exceptionally good and accepted it all without murmur. Xacra was more nervous; really quite nervous in fact but again she stood and took it without any problems - even the right hind. Robin was ace - very calm and reassuring. And oh! the sexy feet that emerged from the process - they look like proper feet now and I am glad :) Must take photos.
In other news we have dispensed with 42 eggs today, which is bloody good going if you ask me. 36 have gone to the local farm shop for resale and I gave six to Pheel, just because.
Meanwhile Knickers and I are enjoying an evening of cider and good grub. I have just discovered Kopparberg premium cider with strawberry and lime - Jesus.
And it's only Friday - yay!
Probably could have stayed in bed for rather longer but was dragged into a state of consciousness by Pheel, on the blower to apologise for not having been round as arranged last night to remove a bad bale of haylage, on account of being pinned under a car after the jack collapsed. Luckily he'd dragged a spare tyre underneath as a secondary precaution and was thus saved from serious injury. With Pheel, you never really know what mad thing has happened that means he hasn't been able to keep a prearranged appointment and I was once more glad I wasn't at immediate pains to text him about the staple gun and the pole in the garden as a result of his not turning up.
What better way to spend a day off than wandering about the homestead, inspecting fencing, the rate of grass growth, poo picking and removing the boys' rugs so that they could run and roll in their furry splendour, enjoying late autumnal sun. Splendid. Did a bit of shopping and back sharpish for a 2pm appointment with Robin the farrier.
I'm so proud of our girls and in awe once more at the splendour that is the temperament of the Lusitano horse. Today was only their second appointment, which was a bit delayed as Robin had hurt his back. Xacra has quite a big crack in the right hind hoof and I was concerned about it, so in the absence of anything else I was trying to apply some linseed oil. Her response? Front feet: concern but ok, if I approached very very calmly and lowered myself slowly towards her feet, and as long as Knickers was at her head providing calmness and moral support (Knickers incidentally is showing great promise with a very calm reassuring way with the girls). Back feet however, less easy and I ended up lashing the brush to the end of a long whip and using that, as the last thing I need is my head being kicked off. So I was trying not to think of what she'd do with Robin and whether she'd kick his head clean off.
We did Alfama first, who was less anxious, though nervous still, and this time she had a full trim and rasp all the way round. Having never been rasped before it was obviously a strange sensation but she was exceptionally good and accepted it all without murmur. Xacra was more nervous; really quite nervous in fact but again she stood and took it without any problems - even the right hind. Robin was ace - very calm and reassuring. And oh! the sexy feet that emerged from the process - they look like proper feet now and I am glad :) Must take photos.
In other news we have dispensed with 42 eggs today, which is bloody good going if you ask me. 36 have gone to the local farm shop for resale and I gave six to Pheel, just because.
Meanwhile Knickers and I are enjoying an evening of cider and good grub. I have just discovered Kopparberg premium cider with strawberry and lime - Jesus.
And it's only Friday - yay!
Monday 18 October 2010
I blink and a month goes by
So the big project is finished and in on time as specified; the feedback not so much well done as "why did you do it yourself; why didn't you get someone else to do it". Perhaps because it's the only fucking way I could get it in on time as specified! This may well have been the straw that broke the camel's back. How I haven't murdered a fellow commuter of late I have no idea. How my family haven't divorced me, I have no idea. It's really unhealthy and when you start to feel the stress manifesting itself in phyiscal symptoms, something has to give, as I did almost immediately after I knew the project was in a fit state to go live.
But enough about work. Things at the homestead are well and that is the most important thing. We've had Rui with us for the past few days and enjoyed some excellent sessions with the boys. I suffer from lack of motivation when doing everything alone especially when knackered after a long day at work, so it's nice to have someone to work with, apart from anything else. A few lightbulb moments consolidated and given me work to take forward. Need to clip them as they are well into their winter woollies.
The girls are very well although I am a bit worried about a large crack in Xacra's hoof. O ferradore coming on Friday so we'll see what can be done. Meanwhile I've been applying linseed oil to her feet - gently I might add as she is unaccustomed and unsure about humanoids kneeling by her feet, but getting a little better each day. For her right hind it's worse, I suspect because she's more leery about her right side generally, so I've lashed the brush to a long whip and am using that during the interim. Not done nearly as much as I should about picking up their feet. Bad mommy. Knickers has been helpign me and is showing great promise as a calm and compassionate being around the horses. Go Knickers!
The big news is we now have six chickens and are awash with eggs. They are fab :)
But enough about work. Things at the homestead are well and that is the most important thing. We've had Rui with us for the past few days and enjoyed some excellent sessions with the boys. I suffer from lack of motivation when doing everything alone especially when knackered after a long day at work, so it's nice to have someone to work with, apart from anything else. A few lightbulb moments consolidated and given me work to take forward. Need to clip them as they are well into their winter woollies.
The girls are very well although I am a bit worried about a large crack in Xacra's hoof. O ferradore coming on Friday so we'll see what can be done. Meanwhile I've been applying linseed oil to her feet - gently I might add as she is unaccustomed and unsure about humanoids kneeling by her feet, but getting a little better each day. For her right hind it's worse, I suspect because she's more leery about her right side generally, so I've lashed the brush to a long whip and am using that during the interim. Not done nearly as much as I should about picking up their feet. Bad mommy. Knickers has been helpign me and is showing great promise as a calm and compassionate being around the horses. Go Knickers!
The big news is we now have six chickens and are awash with eggs. They are fab :)
Sunday 3 October 2010
Week from hell
This has been a tortuous week work-wise; we're all on our knees under the stain of it all and staggering about under the certain knowledge that it probably won't be good enough anyway. The physical signs of stress have been apparent for a few weeks now and that is a concern: not least for my fellow commuters. It's only my by now well-honed training in the art of forbearance that has kept the bodies from piling up around me; that and the realisation that, contrary to a great deal of evidence to the contrary, there aren't actually more irritating people around, it only feels like it. The last time I was so frequently boiling over with irritation, I was in my early 20s. Still, hopefully two of the biggest projects can be finished off next week, just in time for the next load of work to be piled on from a great height. I feel like Garfield in that cartoon when he's looking up and all you can see is his chops on the top of his head, presumably looking at the accompanying "WHY".
Meanwhile back at the ranch Knickers has been settling in and making herself very useful indeed as poo picking Queen and maker of horse dinners Extraordinaire.I've only managed perfunctory doings with the boys this week and didn't manage to do them at all yesterday, but we did get lots done (poo picking and reprising the rancid, sodden mess of the left side of the field shelter, which has suffered from all that rain. I spoke to Pheel about it, who had the marvellous idea that we use some of the giant pile of wood chips that he put in the picadeiro for us only last week. So my big task for the day was to clear out the straw and lay a deep covering of wood chips (9 barrows). I've yet to see what it looks like today but the great thing is that it's biodegradable, we have an inexhaustible supply, and can just keep adding to it. So this might be the answer to our problems. We didn't really want to put a permanent base down as that would mean not being able to move it around, and we bought a mobile one for just that reason.
Otherwise, we bought some solid poles to fence off areas of the girls' field, to give the reseeded area a chance to regrow, and it's now long very very green and lush. This is going to be very useful for pasture management. They do have quite a light footprint anyway, being small and unshod, although the area around the field shelter is best described as a quagmire. I'm really glad we opted to reseed with the more natural grasses, as although they take longer to establish they form a denser mat of roots and that helps the ground hugely. All the fields are looking quite decent given the amount of rain we've had and everyone being out 24/7, which is encouraging. I'm toying the the idea of cracking open the haylage but can't yet bring myself to wrestle with a large bale every day, trying to persuade it to part with bits of itself. Maybe there's a knack to it that I haven't yet discovered. I have armed myself with many hay nets, to help during the week.
Meanwhile, all the water butts are overflowing and we are wondering what we can do with all this water - thousands of litres of it. At worst we have a pump to drain it away into the ditch next to the road but it would be nice to reuse it. You can get some purifying tablets to use it as drinking water, which might be useful in the winter when the taps and pipes freeeze on the yard.
Today it's windy but at least not lashing down yet and I really must do something with the boys as the main priority. Off to shower and get on with it.
Meanwhile back at the ranch Knickers has been settling in and making herself very useful indeed as poo picking Queen and maker of horse dinners Extraordinaire.I've only managed perfunctory doings with the boys this week and didn't manage to do them at all yesterday, but we did get lots done (poo picking and reprising the rancid, sodden mess of the left side of the field shelter, which has suffered from all that rain. I spoke to Pheel about it, who had the marvellous idea that we use some of the giant pile of wood chips that he put in the picadeiro for us only last week. So my big task for the day was to clear out the straw and lay a deep covering of wood chips (9 barrows). I've yet to see what it looks like today but the great thing is that it's biodegradable, we have an inexhaustible supply, and can just keep adding to it. So this might be the answer to our problems. We didn't really want to put a permanent base down as that would mean not being able to move it around, and we bought a mobile one for just that reason.
Otherwise, we bought some solid poles to fence off areas of the girls' field, to give the reseeded area a chance to regrow, and it's now long very very green and lush. This is going to be very useful for pasture management. They do have quite a light footprint anyway, being small and unshod, although the area around the field shelter is best described as a quagmire. I'm really glad we opted to reseed with the more natural grasses, as although they take longer to establish they form a denser mat of roots and that helps the ground hugely. All the fields are looking quite decent given the amount of rain we've had and everyone being out 24/7, which is encouraging. I'm toying the the idea of cracking open the haylage but can't yet bring myself to wrestle with a large bale every day, trying to persuade it to part with bits of itself. Maybe there's a knack to it that I haven't yet discovered. I have armed myself with many hay nets, to help during the week.
Meanwhile, all the water butts are overflowing and we are wondering what we can do with all this water - thousands of litres of it. At worst we have a pump to drain it away into the ditch next to the road but it would be nice to reuse it. You can get some purifying tablets to use it as drinking water, which might be useful in the winter when the taps and pipes freeeze on the yard.
Today it's windy but at least not lashing down yet and I really must do something with the boys as the main priority. Off to shower and get on with it.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)