Glorious Mud

Things you should know:

1. None of my clothes are clean.
2. I don't really mind. 

I was doing a work project recently that involved having Zoom calls with a few people around the region. Most were people I hadn't met before but one was someone I've crossed paths with through various jobs over the years. 

I hadn't spoken to her for a while so we had a bit of a catch up before I started asking her my Very Important work questions. We had a chat about me living at the farm and she said she thought it sounded idyllic. She fancied the idea of being surrounded by animals but was put off by the dirt, she said. 

Magnificent beasts

"You don't know the half of it," I thought to myself. My dog eats sh*te and my boyfriend routinely comes in with it on his head. It certainly puts a different spin on having a dirty weekend... 

On Friday night we went to a friend's for dinner. There were to be three couples, including one Ivie and I hadn't met. Our host set up a group chat to confirm the details. You know the kind of thing: who was still doing Dry January (0/6); who had a negative lateral flow test (6/6); and what not to wear (anything we didn't mind getting covered in dog hair). 

I typed, "I live on a farm. None of my clothes stay clean for longer than five minutes* (not entirely the farm's fault)."
The woman I was yet to meet replied, "I spill food."

I knew then that we'd all get along and that we'd have a great night. I'm pleased to report that I was right on both counts. 

*[I should say at this point that I know this isn't the case for everyone who lives on a farm. I know lots of people who look very well turned out all the time. Dirt has a habit of jumping out on me, though. I could live in a hermetically sealed box and still have toothpaste on my top and mud on my jeans. In fact, I inadvertently went to my last kidney check-up in just that outfit.]

My natural state

Although I'm beyond delighted that parts of life are returning to normal where we can go to each other's houses for dinner and meet up with other like-minded souls, I do have to remind myself that:

1. Real life is not a Zoom call.
2. More than my head and shoulders are on show when I leave the house.
3. Not everyone is immune to farm aromas. 

Still, at least I can't be put on mute in the real world... 

Here's Tae Us

What I've been thinking about this week: 

1. 2021
2. 2022

Let's face it, Christmas and New Year haven't quite been what we're used to or expected. Without getting too maudlin, I think we all figured we'd had our Asda Smart Price version in 2020/21 and this year would be more Tesco Finest. Still, we're here and that's the main thing. 

For the last few years, I've done a review of my year. My friend sent me this link in late 2014 after my first full year in Dumfries and Galloway and I've answered the questions every year since. Yesterday, I spent a day in my shed thinking about questions, such as 'what was your favourite compliment?' (that people laugh at my blog) and 'what did you do for the first time this year?' (lambed a ewe). 

It's also quite interesting looking back at how things have changed (for example, from 2018 when Ivie and I were Never Living With Anyone Ever Again). 

Any excuse for coloured pens

To be honest, I was enjoying being on my own without the puppy bringing me her new favourite toy to play with or Ivie asking me what was for tea. 

Rudi and Ted (thank you, Fishers)

Sometime in the afternoon, Ivie appeared at the door of the shed. I was about to grumble to leave me alone when I saw that he had a bottle of gin in his hand. Not just any gin either. Delicious local gin, Hills and Harbour, which is distilled just along the road. 

I welcomed him with open arms. (It was a bit too early for open glasses but it was a start.)

Unopened. For now. 

If you're a regular reader (thank you), one of the things you might have noticed is that there have been fewer blogs in 2021 than 2020 (21 vs 44). Sometimes it can feel like the same things are happening on the farm as in the previous year (I know, no sh*t, Sherlock). But then something surprising happens...

I wondered aloud where Ivie had come across a bottle of Hills and Harbour at 2pm on a Monday afternoon in January. What I actually said was, "How have you got that?!" in a slightly accusatory manner. 

It turns out that a nearby farmer had borrowed a tup to introduce some new blood into his flock. He'd returned the tup and two bottles of H&H. Thankfully, that allayed my fears that there was only one bottle and we'd have to drink it all before anyone mentioned it to Ivie's brother. It would have been quite a challenge but we'd have faced it head on. At least until we were face down.