Friday 28 August 2020

A rose by any other name

 What I've been thinking about this week. 

  1. Some farm animals have names.
  2. I don't know what the rules are. 

I was used to the idea that pets have names and livestock doesn't. But I've realised that's not always the case. 

Some of the simmentals at the Spittal have names and their offspring appear to be given names beginning with the same letter. Livestock 'Literation, if you like. 

Here's Lily and Lupy. When Lupy was born, Lily was endless, kicking her when she went in to feed and generally not paying much attention to her beautiful new baby. 

Lily and Lupy

I felt quite sorry for Lupy and now when I go with Ivie to check cows, I keep a look out so I can say hello and give her a wee noogie on the head. She's used to human interaction as there was a fair bit when she was born to make sure she got enough milk in those first few days. 

Lupy last month
(I was equally chuffed and disturbed that I recognised her from the photo)

It's all made me wonder if we somehow have more feelings about the animals with names, like being sympathetic towards them, imagining they're pleased to see us or giving them credit for deeper thoughts than, "Am I hungry? Am I in immediate danger?".

There's even a word for it: anthropomorphise: attribute human characteristics to a god, animal or object.

(I've just been in a Google black hole that was starting to get a bit scientific before being balanced out by pictures of Disney characters).

As I say I haven't quite worked out which animals get names and which don't and why. And whether farmers are softer about the animals with names or equally unmoved by all of them. 

Mind you, no-one feels soppy about the bulls as far as I can make out. They seem to be treated a bit like farm machinery that's only worth its keep if it keeps up its end of the deal. As it were. 

Their official names are all double-barrelled and wouldn't be out of place in the Kennel Club. The bulls themselves would be out of place, right enough. That would make Crufts a very different proposition. The only one I can remember is Gretnahouse Black Bat (see here for Mairi's great photo being used in a feed ad). (He's the one I call William, but that's another story). 

So, after all this ramble, I'm none the wiser. Answers on a postcard, please. 

I just hope Lupy doesn't get upset when she finds out I've been talking about her behind her back...



Saturday 22 August 2020

What a load of bull

What I have learned:

1. Ivie is laid-back 99.9% of the time.
2. You can take a pun too far. 


Living on a farm isn't as quiet as you'd think. I regularly wake up to a strange noise - that in my half-asleep state sounds like the alarm on my phone - only to realise (again) that it's a bellowing bull. 

They're noisy creatures and it seems like they're often disgruntled. Not in that story book rampaging through a china shop way. They're much more more slow moving and tend to be focused on one or two fairly basic needs - food and a bit of cow action. 

I found out the other day that it's called 'running with cows' when a bull is let loose in a field with cows that are in season. It sounds like a euphemism an elderly aunt would use like when they ask teenagers if they're 'stepping out' with anyone. 

This bull knows his place

Anyway, the other morning I was getting ready for work. During lockdown, this has mostly entailed putting on clean(ish) clothes and brushing my hair (if I've got a Zoom call that day). I happened to look out of the bedroom window and I saw one of the bulls where he ought not to be. As I had been paying attention during my lesson on field names, I could phone Ivie and tell him where the offending bull wasn't. 

What followed was a Benny Hill-esque rampage by Ivie as he tried to persuade the bull back into the field. The bull was having none of it, keeping focussed on the cow that had so coquetishly caught his attention. Or something like that. 

Ivie's so laid-back most of the time but unco-operative animals in the wrong place really raise his blood pressure and I could see his face getting redder and redder. I kept an eye on him, partly to check that he didn't keel over but mainly because it was bloody hilarious. 

Eventually, the bull reluctantly returned to the house field and Ivie rapidly returned to what he'd been doing before the delightful animal went for a detour. 

It made me think of the town of Bulls in New Zealand. I passed through it a couple of times when I lived in Wellington many moons ago. I like a good pun but the residents of Bulls have taken it to a whole new level. As you drive through, you start to notice a theme to all the shop names. The antique shop? Collect-a-bull. The library? Read-a-bull. I do have a soft spot for the police station, mind you - Const-a-bull. 

Pity the angus didn't take note. He's not exactly in-escapa-a-bull. 

Photo from not-australia.co.nz

Sunday 16 August 2020

They're all going on a summer holiday

Things I've learned
  1. Farmers are adept at diversification. 
  2. I like salted caramel ice cream. I was pretty sure of that already but it's always good to check these things. 

I've been thinking a lot about holidays this week. It's partly the weather - which has been scorchio - and partly the increase in traffic on the roads. 

Dumfries and Galloway is a region that relies heavily on tourism. According to Visit Scotland, British travellers alone made over 750,000 overnight trips to the region in 2018, spending 2.5 million nights and £141 million. 

Of course, this is a mixed blessing. It means that when we have visitors ourselves, there are plenty of places and events to take them to. But we've also all come across drivers either braking for every bend (or puddle, which was my particular favourite) or going far too fast on single track roads and overtaking on blind corners on the A75. 

It's not quite the onslaught that Edinburgh usually has every year. When I lived there, I really enjoyed the fact that I passed Edinburgh Castle on my morning bus route and that I could walk to some of the best art galleries in the world but it made going about my day to day life in August absolute hell. It's certainly experiencing a quieter summer this year due to covid cancellations and, although that has a massive impact on businesses that rely on festival audiences, I'm sure there are many that are breathing a sigh of relief and enjoying the quieter streets. 

Gallery of Modern Art, Edinburgh


Which brings me back to D&G and the farm. Before I lived here, the tourism sector was something I only really thought about in a work setting. Having worked for Spring Fling and the Wigtown Book Festival in the past, I've been involved in a lot of audience surveys, reports to funders and the like but it all felt a bit more abstract. 

Spittal Sunset
Photo by Ivie

Now the view from my bedroom window includes the two holiday cottages on the farm and if I'm sitting outside I can hear people on the cycle path and the gates opening and closing. 

I really like it. I love living somewhere that other people want to come and visit and it stops me taking these glorious views for granted. A friend of mine came to visit last week from Wiltshire and stayed in a nearby AirBnB (Spittal Cottages were both booked!). Her and her children arrived one drizzly, overcast afternoon and woke up the next day surrounded by the Galloway Hills and Galloway Forest Park. They were all captivated by the views, the wildlife and the peace and quiet. It was great to see the place through their eyes and it made me fall in love with D&G a little bit more, if that's possible. 

Photo by Julia

While they were here, we went to Cream o' Galloway on a sunny Saturday. It was my first major trip into the outside world since mid-March so it was all slightly strange. But as numbers were limited to enable social distancing it meant that it was quiet, we barely had to queue for ice cream (salted caramel since you ask) and the kids could explore the adventure playground and go karts till their heart's content. 

It reminded us of a previous visit around six years ago when they'd come to Auchencairn to stay with me. As we waited for the tractor ride (little did I know I'd be able to do that every day if I wanted in a few year's time), the chap said, "now remember that we'll be driving through a working farm. There will be machinery and equipment lying around." We thought he meant from a health and safety point of view and keeping the children safe. "We've had complaints from visitors that the place looks untidy." I'm not often speechless...

Sunday 9 August 2020

Living with an Extrovert

 Things you should know:
  1. I am an introvert.
  2. Ivie is not.
  3. There's more than one sweeping generalisation coming up.

There are lots of definitions of introverts and extroverts out there. Without getting too detailed, one of the main differences is how they recharge their batteries: introverts get their energy back from being on their own; extroverts by being surrounded by people. 

It's one of the reasons that I enjoyed the time that I lived on my own so much and thought I'd never want to live with anyone Ever Again. 

In some ways, being an introvert farmer's WAG is the perfect set-up, though. I have the house to myself for hours at a time and am (just about) ready for company when Ivie gets home. This is what usually happens:
In Ivie's case, it involves putting on the radio, wandering to his desk, scrolling through Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Snapchat and WhatsApp on his phone while watching tractor porn on the computer all at the same time. I whimper quietly while switching off the radio, shutting the kitchen door and just about coping with the noise of the kettle. 

One of the ways this difference shows up between us is when we're socialising. Those of you that know Ivie will know that he's usually the last to leave any party. You know when they 'subtly' turn on the lights and wash the floor? Ivie will still be chatting away to someone he's known for 30 years or 30 minutes and having the time of his life. I'll have peaked early and retreated hours ago and will also be having a grand old time. And a cuppa. 

Rock n roll introvert style

It doesn't mean I didn't enjoy myself or that I didn't like the people I met, it's just that I ran out of steam before he did. And Ivie gets it. He doesn't try to change me or make me feel guilty for always being pretty much the first to leave. 

Anyway, Ivie's best mate had a big birthday this week (yes, Marcus turned 21). For various reasons, I managed to miss both of his celebrations but it meant that Ivie could see everyone he'd missed during lockdown all in one go - extroverts are very efficient in this way. 

While lockdown and shielding wasn't too bad for me because of my introvert tendencies, it does mean that getting out into the outside world is taking me a bit longer. It's a noisy, overwhelming place for someone who only saw people with the surname Fisher for four-and-a-half months. Great as they are, I'm looking forward to broadening my socialising horizons over the coming weeks and months. See you there.

PS thanks to the people I haven't met yet who are regular readers 😊

Saturday 1 August 2020

Everybody was Multi-tasking

What I've learned:
  1. Everyone around here has more than one skill
  2. Farmers' skills involve hitting things with a hammer
We've been having our bathroom refitted this week. It's been a long time coming. We started talking about it before Christmas then finally got round to ordering everything in March. Then lockdown happened. And shielding was extended. So, we've now got a beautiful, almost finished bathroom. 

Work in progress

We've been really lucky with the guy that's doing it for us. Technically, he's a joiner but he's done the plumbing, plastering, as well as the joinery work and fitting the new window. I know everyone knows everyone around here but it makes things so much easier because you're not just opening the Yellow Pages (yes, I'm showing my age) and choosing someone random that a) might turn up when they say they're going to and b) might do a good job. 

You're allowed to be excited about new windows when you're over 40

Along the way, I've learned that farmers are also mult-talented. I've mentioned before that I didn't really know what Ivie did all day. Aside from complicated mental arithmetic, Ivie spends his day problem-solving and fixing things. His days rarely finish up as planned due to any number of unforeseen circumstances involving the weather, temperamental machinery, animals escaping, animals dying, animals giving birth, or any combination thereof. In a lot of cases - animals notwithstanding - these circumstances are 'moulded' with the aid of a heavy object and a lot of force. 

Talking of multi-tasking, something I noticed when I first moved to Dumfries and Galloway is that a lot of people have more than one job. Their week might be made up of two or three part-time jobs or they might make money from their arts and crafts skills over and above the 9-5. In some circles, it would be called a 'portfolio career' but for normal people, it's just life. Before I lived here, I'd always worked full-time without questioning it and it was the norm amongst my friends. In fact, the people I knew who didn't work full-time outside the home generally had small children. 

As I've got older, I've really appreciated time over almost everything else and, aside from a six-month blip in a job that wasn't right for me, I've worked part-time since December 2013, often made up of two or more contracts. It was a great way to get to know more people, too. My first part-time contracts were with Spring Fling and Wigtown Book Festival, two of my favourite D&G cultural icons. I got to know a lot of people who are now close friends and I might have bumped into someone special at the 2017 book festival opening party...


Going back to the bathroom, I did get slightly confused by the multi-talented joiner earlier in the week. He mentioned that he would only be there the next morning as he had a funeral in the afternoon. I made my, "oh I'm sorry" face but didn't have time to say anything else as he had already moved on to telling me what else he still had to do. Later, as I watched the van leave down the farm road, I saw the tell-tale words on the back doors, "Ian Broll. Joiners and Funeral Directors".