Murder in the Farmyard

What you should know:

1. My brother is great. 
2. He's also a typical big brother.

My brother, David, is ten years older than me. He's one of the main reasons I moved to Dumfries and Galloway. We were about to turn 40 and 50 and I was fed up of saying, "Wouldn't it be good if we lived nearer each other?" So, I handed in my notice, sold my flat and made the move from the big city. 

He's one of my favourite people - despite cutting my hair off when I was three, giving me mashed potato he told me was ice cream and making me take a big spoonful of sherbet that turned out to be bicarb. He regularly makes me laugh until I can't breathe and we have the same views about the important things, like biscuits and scones. 

Here we are at a Halloween Party a few years ago. 

It's probably best not to ask
Photo by Katie

Having said all that, I wouldn't want to work with him, which brings me to the very important farmery question of the day. How do family members work with each other for decades without committing matricide, patricide, fratricide, sororicide (I had to look that one up) or any other type of -cide?

I did think about googling 'farm murders' but thought better of it (my algorithms are in a big enough mess as it is).

I'm sure it won't surprise you to know that Ivie and his brother give each other a cuddle at the start of every day on the farm and finish the day with a very continental peck on each cheek. But there must be days when they disagree about what to name the latest newborn lamb, what colour the new quad bike should be and where to keep the latest tool from Aldi's random aisle (it was a ratchet set last night, since you ask). 

Which all makes me think about all the weapons and pseudo-weapons on a farm. It could be like a new take on Cluedo. Pseudo-Cluedo anyone?

• Farmer Fisher Senior in the top shed with the shotgun
• Farmer Fisher Junior in the old byre with the pinch bar 
• Nephew Fisher in the dairy with the dehorning shears

I always thought living in the country was pretty safe. It's maybe time to start looking in the random aisle for an ice pick to keep under my pillow. 

Kiltin' not Killin'
Photo by Louise