Throbbing

That's what my body is doing right now, with tiredness. What I want to know is, is a different sort of busy as good as a rest? I suspect the answer to be "no" but it does serve as a reminder that while we do the one to be able to do the other, sometimes the sheer amount of STUFF that needs doing develops Eiger-like proportions, there's a shortage of hours in the day and the body starts remarking "fucking hell, are you sure?"

At work there's the headlong rush towards enrolment and the new intake of students; at home there's the headlong descent into the harsh reality of winter on a farm in the country with four horses to care for. At work there's the headlong rush towards go live for the new Helpdesk system; at home there's the project sheet of Things To Do Before Winter. I know, I know, we're barely scratching the surface of the autumn, but these things must be prepared for while the weather and the daylight allows it.

I was dog tired when I got home on Friday but determined to ride Q anyway around the shiny new cones. I only realised when I was on board that laying out cones in the dark is not conducive to setting them in a straight line and wondered what hope I had to ride one when I couldn't even walk one. The answer: not much.
Chinese takeaway and an earlyish night in, enabled because Knickers had doe the poo picking and prepared everyone's dinners.Yay Knickers!

Saturday consisted of the following:

7:30 (which constitutes a two hour lie in): get up, feed round, have a cup of tea. Go shopping. In this case it involved Tenterden, a bulging trolley in Waitrose and an accordingly capacious bill for my trouble. Can't believe how expensive food is at the moment. Stop off at farm shop, hardware store and feed merchant to be relieved of further funds. On the plus side we now own a melon baller, but we have no gas for the blow torch to finish the planned creme brulee. Change of plan required for menu later.

Back at 11:30, bacon butty. Poo pick the mares' field, lift the beds. Assemble and arrange the large number (18) of water butts that Sid has purchased to collect and recycle rainwater and assist with drainage, about the place. Dig out an array of pipes and old shit from behind the stables to facilitate the installation of four water butts. Put the old shit in the skip, store away what can be kept, instal the water butts. Encounter Biggest Spider Ever. Prepare and ride T. Prepare dinners and breakfasts; feed round and hay for the evening. Go to shop for alcohol. Take the pooch for a walk. Cook up a marvel of a meal to (a) celebrate Knickers' presence, and (b) commemorate the 40 year anniversary of Jimi Hendrix's death that went something like:

crispy prawns with rocket and lemon mayo
pan fried duck breast (free range, of course) with honey and spices, parisienne potatoes, glazed chantenay carrots, pak choi fried with garlic and a red wine jus
fruit salad (made by Knickers)

Meanwhile we have no hot water, ostensibly because those buggers at EDF were frigging around with the eletricity supply and ours went off on Thursday morning. We didn't know it at the time but this appears to have taken out some crucial component of our ability to create hot water at will and the electricians are coming around later to have a look. Arrrgghhhh. So while I might otherwise have soaked away at least some of the tiredness of my aching limbs with a nice hot bath, instead I am sitting here writing this while the body goes "fucking hell, are you sure?".

Today:'s plan: guttering, removal of old stable lights, finish off cabling/lnking up six water butts, ride both boys, poo pick, cook a few things for in the week and maybe, just maybe, sit on my arse for a bit, rocking quietly backwards and forwards and trying not to think about all the things I have to do at work this week.