Hi De Hi

What I've been thinking about this week:

1. Holidays
2. To do lists

I'm really lucky that my workplace closes down for two weeks over the festivities. It had been pretty non-stop in the run-up so I was glad to close down my emails and switch off my work phone on the 22nd and not think about it too much until about now. 

I'm also really lucky that I enjoy my job so I don't have that back to work dread that many people experience at this time of year. A glance at my Facebook memories reminds me that this hasn't always been the case, although I still stand by my status update from 2011:

"...the first week back at work after Christmas should be like the first week of primary school: in till lunchtime then home for a nap and a change into playing clothes."

I had great plans over the holidays with quite an extensive to do list on the go. So far, all I've managed is washing my walking boots and doing a review of my year. (To be fair, I did try phoning HMRC about my tax bill but gave up after 25 minutes on hold, suspecting that my call wasn't quite as important to them as they would have me believe.)

I still find it tricky sometimes that Ivie doesn't have a traditional 9-5 with free weekends, especially when I've got all this time off and we're hurtling towards lambing time. He might be awake in body from time to time but he won't be 100% conscious and engaged or able to hold a conversation beyond lambing stats - number left to lamb, number of triplets, when he last had a full night's sleep, you know the kind of thing.

Luckily, there's a solution to my need for quality time with my significant other away from the ranch. Meet the campervan that we now co-own with our next door neighbours!

We had our first night in it parked up at Sandhead last night. We had a very rock n roll evening, eating home made curry, watching the dog run herself daft on the beach and playing Scrabble. Scrabble is my 'sport' and Ivie plays me once or twice a year to balance out the actual sport he's tried to get me involved in over the years (none successfully, you'll be surprised to hear).

If Old McDonald played Scrabble

I'm looking forward to more mini breaks, getting to know this corner of the world more. Moving to the Spittal just before the first lockdown got in the way of that a bit, although this week alone we've managed a trip to Cruggleton and getting lost at Kirroughtree. I'm just wondering where else we can squeeze in before lambing 2023 gets underway.... (suggestions welcome!). Now that's a to-do list I can get behind. 

Ho, Ho, Ho

What I've been thinking about this week:

1. Winter schedules

2. The 'C' word

In theory, I should see a bit more of Ivie at this time of year. (By which I mean I should see him more often, not that I should see more bits of him. What with the thermals and extra layers not much of our pasty, celtic flesh is seeing the light of day at the moment.)

But the thing about living with a sporty farmer is that once the busy summer is out the way, it's time for the winter sports - touch rugby and curling, rather than ice hockey and figure skating, just in case you were wondering. 

Sport at a safe distance

It doesn't seem to have been as noticeable this year, though, as this is the first December since I moved to the Spittal that life has been a bit more normal. It's coming up to our third living-together-aversary and I don't need to tell anyone how far from normal December 2020 and 21 were. 

Which brings me to that 'C' word (if you'd like to watch a seasonal, sweary song that includes a few mentions of the other 'C' word, you can click here).

Ivie and I are both a little bah humbug about the festivities. We both enjoy eating more cheese and drinking more port than usual and blaming it on Christmas, obviously, but that's not quite the same as embracing the tinsel. Besides, our first date involved a bottle of port and cheese on toast and I'm all about preserving traditions.

Cheers!

To be fair, I love seeing other people's trees and decorations all lit up and I do enjoy a rousing rendition of O Come All Ye Faithful in the village on Christmas Eve. Part of my reticence is that in a past life a fully decorated house was used to paper over the cracks in an unhappy household and I haven't quite had enough therapy to dissociate the two. Freud would, indeed, have a field day, just before handing me a Santa hat and a singing reindeer. 

Being out of the house more often at carol concerts and Christmas afternoon teas means that things are a bit more evened out and I feel less like a rugby and curling widow compared with previous years. My Christmas tree earrings have even seen a few outings with a few more to come before December is out. 

I'm sure that deep down we're not as bah humbug as we like to present to the world. After all, we managed to inadvertently name our dog after one of Santa's reindeer. I'm sure Freud would enjoy that, too, as we try to persuade him that she's actually named after a Specials song (no sweary words in this one).  

Stop your messing around

New Socks Please, We're British

What I've been thinking about this week:

• Excellent purchases

What I haven't been thinking about this week:

• Socks

One of the things I've found about middle age is how excited I get about buying things that my younger self would have been horrified by. I've never been particularly 'spendy' but there's nothing wrong with simple pleasures. 

This week has been particularly good for online, middle-aged purchases*

• a heated blanket I put over my legs like a Nana when I'm working (so we don't have to put the heating on during the day). 
• an old school paper diary from Germany (it's worth it, honest).
• an old school paper calendar from a small business in Edinburgh (are you detecting a theme here?) 

There have been a few deliveries for the farm this week, too, as Ivie et al get some maintenance done between the summer madness and the winter. Although I asked all the right questions, I'm not sure I could tell you what they've been up to, other than the concreting up by the pens - and that's mainly cos I walk past it with the dog every morning (on the lead so that there are no little pawprints left as a lasting legacy🐾).

A rare moment of calm

I've got used to the couriers arriving in between all the other vehicles coming and going during the day. They're pretty good at delivering farm parcels to the steading, rather than to either of the houses so I didn't pay too much attention to the one that drove past just before lunchtime. I saw the driver open the back door to the van and hand Ivie a package. I assumed it was another sprocket, widget or tractor part so carried on trying to persuade the dog to be calm for five bloody minutes while I heated up the soup. 

Ivie has excellent timing, so he appeared back just as the toast was popping with said package in his hand. It contained socks. Not just one or two pairs, mind you. Twelve pairs of new, heavy duty, promise-not-to-wear-through socks.

Ivie is not spendy: Exhibit A

As we all know, Ivie is even less spendy than I am so there has been a lot of deliberation about these socks. He has mentioned buying new ones on a fairly regular basis for the past month and, I have to say, my interest was waning. 

Here's hoping it's a while before he has to buy something major. Like wellies. 

* It's important to support our local businesses, too, especially in the run-up to the 'C' word. Check out this blog from 2020 that lists some of my favourites. And check out one of my new local favourites, Nest Galloway.

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. 

A Cosy Christmas

What I know about Christmas on the farm:

1. Cows still need fed. 
2. Ivie doesn't really switch off. 

"Will you have a lie-in on Christmas Day?" I asked Ivie.

"Probably not," he replied, "I like just getting up and out and then I'll have the rest of the day."

I can see the logic but there's something indulgent about lying there, waking up gradually and talking nonsense. To be fair, we manage to talk nonsense at all other times of the day so maybe it's not a major sacrifice. And since we got the puppy, a lie-in doesn't seem like such a relaxing proposition. 

I'm awake!

This is my first Christmas as an actual Spittal resident so it's made me think about starting our own traditions. Growing up, my Dad used to make us have tea and toast before we were allowed any chocolate on Christmas Day. I still do this (with an ounce of teenage grumbling) and it's a nice little way of remembering him all these years later. 

One of Ivie's suggestions was that we get the stove going in my shed and have a cosy cuppa in there on Christmas morning. Sounds good to me. 

Sunny Shennanton Sawmill Shed

It's not how I thought my Christmases would pan out, to be honest. In a past life, I imagined my future Christmases would be filled with letters to Santa, school concerts and early wake-up calls of, "he's been!". Things didn't turn out that way but, you know, I wouldn't change it for the world. 

I'm a firm believer in everything working itself out in the end and if I'd had a people-carrier full of kids, I wouldn't be living where I do with the wonderful person that I do. We're privileged auntie and uncle to six nieces and one nephew between us aged 8-26, who we love having in our lives. 

I'm sure everyone's 2020 Christmas is a bit different to what was planned. I hope that you're all starting your own wee traditions that will be talked about in years to come. 

Merry Festivities to you all! xxx

Giblin Christmas 1988-ish

Farm Names

What I learned this week

I get brownie points if I drop a farm name into conversation. 

In the run-up to the festive season, conversations that started “What are you doing for Christmas?” used to be quite straightforward. Friends’ responses would be along the lines of, “at home for Christmas and at my parents on Boxing Day. How about you?” It’s slightly more confusing now. 

No-one in the farming community answers in such straightforward terms. No siree. They answer with riddles. 

“Oh, we’re at Balmacleuch on Christmas Day and then down at The Gowan for Boxing Day.”

I’ve no idea what that means. Are they at home? With relatives? In prison? 

I nod and smile and hope that’s appropriate (which it obviously wouldn’t be if it was prison right enough.…). It’s not that I’m not interested in people’s plans or don’t want to know who lives where, it’s just that details aren’t my strong point.

Not a real sheep apparently

To give you an example, years before Ivie and I were together, a big group of us went to a pop up restaurant. I can’t actually be sure what town I was in but I was wearing my orange dress and was so warm, I had to go to the toilets and take off a layer in between courses.

There’s also the problem of pronunciation. How it’s written and how that translates into a Wigtownshire accent are often completely different. So much so that I can’t even give you an example. 

And don’t get me started on which farm names are preceded with ‘The’ and which aren’t. It’s like trying to learn French noun genders… 

So, this week I casually dropped into conversation that I’d been speaking to a colleague about Markdhu (which may or may not be how you spell it). And I got farm points. They’re like brownie points but worth more. I will endeavour to keep doing it to keep my farm point quota high for when I ask stupid questions. 

At least I know where I’ll be on Christmas Day. I’m at The Spittal.