God it's nice to have a lie in on a Saturday after a busy week.
So a number of firsts today worthy of note.
We're going to a wedding next week and for the occasion I have purchased an LK Bennett dress. This is well outside my usual frame of reference and one I could become accustomed to but mustn't. The only ones who wear designer clobber in our house are the horses, as is the correct way of things. Said dress arrived this morning and is very nice indeed.
In order to get the removable partition in the field shelter that we wanted (ie one that is not solid all the way to the top) we ended up with a new design that only had kick boards on one side. Sid therefore spent much of the morning devising a way add chipboard to the other side of the partition, which involved taking the partition down and nailing it on in three bits before putting it back up again. For my part I de-weeded inside the shelters and otherwise prepped for the much anticipated straw bed installation before going off to de-smeg myself in preparation for the next unusual doing of the day - the hairdresser. Oh yes.
See, I hate going to he hairdresser, so I tend not to do it. And unlike the dentist, all this sort of avoidance tactic does in the way of consequencs is develop a tendency towards very long hair, and that's what scrunchies are for. It's all that pointless conversation about holidays (or mobile phones, as I noticed today, and the intricacies of setting the speed dial options) that does it. However, fortune was with me as I got a young girl (there exists the real possibility that I've reached the age where hairdressers and policemen all look young this should not be discounted) who really only wanted to get the job done and not talk pointless bollocks, so that suited me just fine.
Naturally enough I have the worst hair for what I most want, which is just a little bit of body. If I am to achieve this however I must go beyond my comfort zone in terms of length, and that is something I am just not ready for. I think Sid thought I was a wuss but was secretly pleased I didn't come home with a skinhead.
We put the beds down for the girls and took the pooch for a walk - blissful in the woods, all fresh after rainfall and with sun shining down through the trees creating a number of beautiful peaceful scenes - wish I'd taken the camera. A day off for the boys principally because the day was rammed and I ran out of time.
Binky caught a baby bunny and brought it back - alive :( - for the meehoos. Tis what mother cats do of course and the natural order of things, but tricky for a sap like me. Said bunny somehow escaped and took refuge **for most of the afternoon** under a pile of railway sleepers while Ted sat on the first watch. Next thing, Binky had it in the garden again and it looked uninjured but deep in shock, so I took it off her and put it in a cat basket and covered it to let the poor thing try to recover a bit if it could. But no, it died a short while later. Good on the one hand as natural bunny control and there really are plenty more where that one came from but sad for the individual. At least it died quietly in the box rather than being tossed about by a number of cats.My farming friends would think I was some sort of fuckwit, not least because the whole purpose of cats on farms as far as most people are concerned is one of pest control and people spend a lot of tme, effort and money keeping down bunny populations to stop them digging their warrens in paddock and risking horses' legs, among other things. A fool, but an honest fool I remain - a bit like Peregrin Took looking into the stone of Orthanc, only taller and with less furry feet.
No comments:
Post a Comment