Puppy in Training

 What you should know:

1. We've been putting it off for months. 
2. We are ridiculous. 

I saw a post on Facebook the other day. It read, "I've just completed a task in 20 minutes, that I've been putting off for 5 months. I will learn nothing from this". It sounded more than a little familiar. 

You know those things that you just hope will disappear from your to-do list but never do? You'd think that by this age, I'd have figured out that they just get bigger and bigger until one day your brain is screaming, "Just. Get. It. Done!". 

Yesterday was one of those days. On yesterday's morning walk, the puppy was paying a bit too much attention to the sheep on the farm. The pup usually has a bit of a look then gets distracted by a clump of grass she's never noticed before and moves along. 

"Oooh grass"

Yesterday she had her nose pressed up against the fence, making my brain leap from zero to catastrophe in three seconds flat...

"What if the puppy chases the sheep and gets shot and Ivie will blame me and I'll blame Ivie because we've been talking about putting her in with the tups since before Christmas and we'll fall out and I'll have to move into the spare room!"

Ever since we got the pup (in the first week of October), we've been saying that we should make her scared of sheep. Lambing is fast approaching and the last thing anyone wants is an over-excited dog getting in the way causing mayhem. The slight issue is that both Ivie and I have a tendency to think we've loads of time until we're in a mild panic about whatever we're supposed to have organised. 

When we should have done sheep training

There's a quote from the composer Leonard Bernstein that sums it up perfectly:

"To achieve great things, two things are needed: a plan, and not quite enough time."

So, yesterday afternoon we set off to the top of the farm to finally tick something off our list. We were quite the merry band - Ivie driving the quad, Drew sitting on the front, me on the back clinging on to a 10kg jumping bean and Isa the collie snapping at the tyres. 

Drew and Isa moved last year's remaining lambs into a pen and we added a six month old spaniel to the mix. I was slightly hoping that she'd get a kick or two to really put her off - but getting up close and realising how big they were seemed to do the trick.  

The good news is that this morning she didn't even glance at the sheep. A meeting with the tups is still on the cards, which should put her off good and proper. We've loads of time to get that sorted out, though. 

Gratuitous puppy shot

Once Upon a Time

What I've noticed:

1. When you've been living with someone for a while, you start to repeat yourself. 
2. When you've been living with someone for a while, you start to repeat yourself (haha, I'm hilarious). 

One of the things about living at the Spittal is that there's not often a quiet moment (and that's even without Ivie in the house). Someone or something passes by my 'office' window on a fairly regular basis - the postie, a cattle feed truck, a horse, a pick-up, sporty Fishers doing DoddieGump. 

A rare clear view from the 'office'

The same is true at the times that we've been out and about (not so much lately, granted). Particularly when we're close to home, Ivie chats away with an almost-constant commentary of stories about his past (they are many and varied...), who used to live where and places he's worked. 

A typical exchange might go like this:

Him: I've lifted the silage in that field.
Me: Oh?
Him: If you look closely, you can still see all the perfectly parallel tracks. 

Me: Oh.  

 Or:

Him: I've ploughed that field.

Me: You told me that the last time we drove along here.

Him: Oh.  

That's not to say that I'm immune from repetitive-itis - although most of the replayed conversations Ivie has to put up with go along the lines of:

Me: Look at this beautiful notebook!
Him: Don't you have a dozen un-used notebooks on the shelf? 
Me: Yes, but this one has graph paper inside instead of plain. 
Him: Oh. 

The introvert in me is sometimes challenged by the amount of chatting that goes on. Especially during lockdown, though, I'm very happy to have the company of another human being - even if we do have the same conversations every day. And maybe even especially because we have the same conversations every day.

Just in Case

What you should know:

1. Sometimes it does come in handy.
2. I haven't decided how I feel about that. 

One of the great things about living on a farm is that there's always the right machinery, equipment or tool, whatever the job.  

Today, I sort of helped Ivie clear some ivy, which pleases the nerdy bit of my brain that likes words. The job itself didn't please me. "Ivie Ivy is endless," I protested, which was greeted by a raised eyebrow. We piled it into the loadall and Ivie took it away to pile behind the steading. 

The ivy was from around a couple of trees that were taken down earlier in the week. This means that a. we have much more light in the bedroom and an even better view of the Cree and b. there is firewood to last us a pretty long time. 

Ivie chopped up some of the smaller logs and I carried them round to the shed at the back of the house to dry out for a couple of days. In an ideal world, I'd have walked in, stacked them in a little pile and then had a cup of tea. 

Except, as with lots of sheds, stuff gets chucked in to be sorted out at a later date. Turns out that later date was today. 

We've already established that Ivie has a pathological inability to chuck out any clothes (see this blog). He also keeps pretty much everything else 'just in case'. I tend to be at the other end of the spectrum, having regular clear-outs and trying not to accumulate too much stuff. 

The thing is, sometimes the things that Ivie holds on to come in useful. The leftover kitchen tiles from his kitchen refit 10+ years ago became a hearth for my shed; Rudi's feed and water bowls once belonged to Millie, who passed away three years ago; and our drinks cupboard is full of glasses that came from the Riverside (which closed circa 2005).

I was quite restrained with the shed, though, and only threw out a sponge for washing the car that had disintegrated into hundreds of tiny pieces and a tin of magnolia paint that had turned into a magnolia brick. I left behind the floorboards from the old bathroom, the extra shelf for the bookcase we no longer have and the mouse trap with the broken spring. You never know, they might come in handy one day...

A Break from the Norm

What you should know:

1. I didn't really mean it.
2. I'd last approximately three days. 

I've really enjoyed my Christmas break. I'm lucky to work somewhere that shuts down completely for two weeks. Because I work part-time and Monday is a bank holiday in Scotland, I'll have had almost three weeks away from my desk. 

I was going to write that I think everyone has probably daydreamed about not working for a living at some point in their lives. Except farmers. You know those people who say that if they won the lottery they'd still work? I bet most farmers would be in that category. 

Ivie and Rudi going off to work

Steering clear of the economics and politics of farming (my blog is more concerned with the comedy of farming, to be honest), it's in the blood of those who do it. While I often don't understand the conversations I overhear, I recognise the passion and pride and the drive to do things well. 

This morning over breakfast, we were chatting about the routines we've got into over the festive period and I wondered aloud about being a 'kept' woman. I could do more of the things I've enjoyed over the festivities like reading, walking and sitting in my shed, dispensing with pesky work that just gets in the way. It was met with a characteristic, "Oh aye?" from Ivie and he carried on drinking his coffee. 

Shed Life

Rationally, I know that I wouldn't last very long at it. Work is important to me for lots of reasons, not just financial independence. That's not to dismiss anyone that doesn't work outside the home. I know lots of people who put in far more hours than I do caring for others, supporting family businesses and being the lynch-pin of a household. Somehow it's not considered 'work' in the traditional sense but that's probably a debate for another day. 

In the meantime, I'll keep daydreaming about doing more of the things I enjoy, as well as daydreaming about a bit more normality in 2021.