Old Habits Die Hard

What I've been thinking about this week:

1. Tea
2. Naps

You might remember that I went on a writing course back in October (I wrote about it in this blog). Well, I've just been on another one. 

In the run-up - as well as looking forward to spending a whole weekend writing and chatting to other people about their writing - one of the things I was most looking forward to was having a slower start to my day. Usually, I'm up, dressed and out with the dog before my eyes are fully open and my body is fully upright. 

Pre-dog, I'd shuffle about in my jammies for a bit, make a cuppa and then think about the day ahead. What joy it would be to relive those days! 

Except what I actually did was wake up at my usual time, get dressed quickly and wonder if the tutor's puppy would like to go for a walk. Even when she didn't, I was out strolling around Brig o Dee before 8am* and thinking about my first cup of tea of the day. 

I've never smoked (except in a pub one night in Cupar, which just left me with a sore throat and sore chest. The fact that the smoking took place inside tells you how long ago it was). However, I imagine the first cigarette of the day is very much like the first cup of tea: nothing else hits that high and you spend the rest of the day trying to recreate it. (A tea problem, me? Absolutely not. I could give up any time I like; I just choose not to.)

I got back from the weekend tired but happy. I'd learned loads and met some great new friends but what I hadn't done was sleep a lot. Despite a ludicrously big bed all to myself, my brain had been too busy to switch off and I arrived home in need of a nap. 

I already know that I am always going to be lazy compared with Ivie (I wrote about it in this blog) and this week I remembered that I can never, ever mention that I am tired. 

Luckily, Ivie is very relaxed about the different paces of our lives. A busy weekend for me is meeting friends for lunch, a rummage in Wigtown Community Shop and a dog walk with a friend (which also includes lunch). A busy weekend for Ivie involves a full day of work, lambing three ewes at 1am, coming to bed just after 2 and and then doing it all again. 

He rarely complains so I definitely don't feel I can moan about being tired when I was basically being force fed cake and laughing till I cried at (true) stories of hamsters and firemen. (It's a bit like the unspoken rule of not mentioning you got less than your usual 8 hours to new parents of a tiny human.)

Thanks to Drew, Ivie has had a couple of nights off from the nightshift so we're managing to go to bed at the same time, something we take for granted the rest of the year. His alarm will still go off before mine as I tell myself that if only I could have a day off from walking the dog, I'd be having a lie in with a cuppa. It seems you can't teach an old dog new tricks after all. 

* I know this is mid-afternoon by farm standards.

Let's Face the Music

What I've been thinking about this week:

1. Love and Romance
2. Don't be ridiculous, of course I haven't! 

What I've really been thinking about:

1. Crabbit and thrawn farmer(s).
2. Glitter balls and disco lights. 

I can't believe we're halfway through February already. The first few weeks of the year have flown by and I can just about see Spring at the end of the tunnel that is a Scottish winter. 

Of course, for some people halfway through February means only one thing - posting on Facebook/Twitter/Insta how much they love their significant other/best friend/dog (when the rest of the year all they post is what a pain they are). 

💖(I'm not really hard hearted)

At least at the Spittal we're consistent - we moan about each other 365 days a year we rub along day to day, laughing at each other's jokes and the absurdity of life, and getting on pretty well. To be fair, I think I'm harder to live with than Ivie is (and, as Kenny at the Creebridge told me the other night, I should be happy with my lot since I'm punching above my weight as it is).

As well as not winning the pony club quiz at the Creebridge last weekend, I had a night in Glasgow with some friends to watch Strictly. In the car on the way home, we were discussing Scottish words that are common in the North of England (where the friends I was with have both spent time living). They'd heard of crabbit but thrawn was a new one for them both. But more of that later. 

The other thing that marks mid-February at the Spittal is the start of lambing. It's started a wee bit early this year but, so far, Ivie's still getting a full night's sleep and is more or less on an even keel. Except one night last week when the dog was particularly unenthusiastic about carrying out her last ablutions and getting the **** to bed. 

First lambs of 2023

Let me tell you the secret for getting the dog to do what she needs to do. All you have to say is, "Let's go disco!" and she'll perform (it's a long story which basically involves my reluctance to stand outside shouting "pees" and the flashing light setting on my head torch. Don't judge me. Sometimes I have to make my own entertainment). 

• Guess how keen Ivie is to stand outside going, "Let's go disco!" 
• And have a guess as to how long he will stand outside in the dark and cold while the dog sniffs every blade of grass instead. 

I think you can guess the answer to both of those questions, as well as seeing how well 

they illustrate the definitions of crabbit and thrawn. And we're barely at the start of lambing; it's only going to get worse.