What I’ve been thinking about this week:
- Lambing
- Health and Safety
Here we are again. The end of January is in sight and February marks the beginning of lambing. There are a couple of weeks before it all kicks off but this time of year always makes me think about how little I’ll see Ivie and how best to deal with that.
I have to say, it’s not such a daunting prospect this year: partly because life feels more normal than it has done for the last three years so my own life away from the farm is busier; and partly because I know what to expect.
I’m not big on big gestures (just as well, eh) and I don’t need expensive presents in my life (ditto) but one of the things that makes me feel happy in a relationship is uninterrupted, quality time.
This can be a challenge in amongst farm life. We can be like ships that pass in the night and, as you can imagine, this is even more so during lambing when Ivie spends his evenings snoozing on the sofa and I get used to not stirring when he comes to bed in the wee small hours.
We’ve tried to take a more proactive approach this year, frontloading some time together before the insanity kicks in. We had a night away in a hotel this weekend where we ate, drank and were merry (Ivie greatly so) and had a visit to the Devil’s Porridge Museum at Eastriggs.
It tells the story of the cordite factory that spread across 9 miles at Gretna and Eastriggs during the First World War. At its peak, it employed 30,000 people and produced 11,000 tonnes of the stuff a week. Health and Safety wasn’t really a thing and the young women who worked there (most of whom were under 18) were known as Canary Girls because of the yellow hue of their skin. It’s well worth a visit if you’re passing by on the way to the M6.
I know it’s easy to talk about Health and Safety gone mad and all that but we’ve come a long way in the 100 years or so since the end of WWI. I was a bit alarmed when I discovered that farming is one of the most dangerous industries in the country but it makes sense when you think about it. Let’s face it, I’d have to be going some to sustain an injury in my job. Health and safety really would have to go mad for me to have to enter ‘paper cut’ or ‘stabbed myself with a staple’ into an accident book.
Which brings me to the sight I saw before me this afternoon. Ivie and I came out to the shed to have a cuppa before I started writing. He finished his coffee and announced he was off to chop kindling and get the fire going in the house.
As he walked across the grass, I happened to notice that he was wearing his slippers. TO GO AND CHOP WOOD!
It makes me wonder if the statistics about farmers hurting themselves actually involve farming or just plain stupidity. Answers on a postcard (but watch you don’t cut yourself on the sharp corners).