Lights Off

What you should know: 

• Being from the Borders doesn’t automatically make you a collie. 

• You’d think I’d learn. (Or maybe not, based on past experience.) 

I’ve had a farmery couple of weeks by my standards. July was a bit of a write-off what with having covid and all (I’ve now stopped having toddler naps in the afternoon, which is progress) but I was put to work almost as soon as I tested negative. 

It was already an unusual Saturday, in that we were going out to an Actual Thing later that afternoon. Jim Smith was in Dumfries and we were off to see him with some pals. For those who haven’t heard of him, he’s a stand-up who’s also a farmer. Or a farmer who’s also a stand-up. We saw him at the end of 2019 and I got almost all the jokes. Fast forward to summer 2022 and I got Every. Single. One. Disturbed or proud? I haven’t decided yet. 

I was trying to conserve my energy for chatting on the way to Dumfries and then laughing once I got there so I’d had a lie-in and taken the dog for a fairly short walk. Then Ivie uttered those dreaded words: “Could you come and help me with something?” 

I’d agreed before having the sense to ask what the something was, which Ivie was probably counting on. 

Not invited

Earlier in the week, the ewes and lambs had been separated into different fields. The lambs are getting too big to get underneath the ewes to feed and don’t need the extra nutrition any longer. 

Later in the week, the ewes and lambs had reunited in the same field. Our job was to un-unite them. 

“Shall we take Isa (the border collie)?” I asked, hopefully. 

“Naw, it’ll be easier without her.” 

What I should have said at this point was, “Easier for who?” (or ‘whom’ if I was feeling all fancy). 

Not running gear

The short version of events is: 

• Ivie drove around on the quad. 
• I ran around in (not just) my wellies. 
• He should have told me to wear a sports bra. 
• Sheep are endless and stupid. 
• They ended up back in the same field later that night anyway so we shouldn’t have bloody bothered. 

Thankfully, the animals stayed where they should at Wigtown Show last Wednesday (the four-legged variety in any case). 

Peggyslea Clydesdales

It was a grand day out, and after two years of no show because of lockdown, it was great to catch up with so many people. It’s a very efficient way of seeing farmery folk (and Ivie’s relatives) all in one place but come 3 o’clock, my post-covid batteries ran down and I was ready for home. As you can imagine, Ivie was not quite ready for home so I told him I’d pick him up any time before 10pm when both my phone and my light would be going off. 

Guess how many people Ivie asked for a lift between 10.01pm and midnight? Nope, he's no idea either.

Home Sweet Home

Things I Know
It feels like home

I've lived at the farm for about two and a half months now. Not very long in the scheme of things but in some ways it feels like I've always been here. 

My brother came to visit last weekend. It was the first time he'd been here in daylight so we went for a walk around with Isa the border collie. My brother has always taken loads of photos and is good at spotting the little things that make up the day. 

My wellies and leggings at the back door

He sent me a few and one of the things that struck me was that I looked relaxed and at home. I'm not just visiting, I live here! 

I mentioned in an earlier post that I never thought I'd live with anyone again. There was lots about living on my own that I loved and my independence was hard won. But then Ivie came along and changed my mind. 

It's been a while since either of us has had a housemate so we're figuring it out as we go along. And every day I realise how lucky I am to live: 

• with someone that makes me laugh every day and puts up with me laughing at my own (hilarious) jokes. 
• next door to Ivie's family that include me in things and don't make me feel stupid when I don't know about farm life.
• somewhere with views like this a few minutes' walk from my back door (with a borrowed collie).

So, it looks like Ivie and The Spittal are stuck with me for a while. Even the cat's decided she's staying. 

Questions, questions

Things you should know:

1. Some of my friends are really detail oriented
2. That is not one of my skills....

When I first started going out with Ivie, some of my friends asked me lots of questions about the farm. You can imagine how well that went. 

Question: What kind of farm is it?

My answer: There's cows and sheep there and a couple of wee goats.

The real answer: Beef and sheep. (The pygmy goats are generally considered a nuisance but they do eat any spilled feed). 

Question: What breeds are there?

My answer: Seriously? I told you there were cows. What else could you possibly need to know?  Some are beige and some are black. I think they might be called limousines, like the car. 

The real answer: There is a cow breed called limousin (note the lack of 'e') but there aren't any at the Spittal. There are Simmentals and Aberdeen Angus. 

Q: And what about the sheep?

Me: I know this one! They're called mules (<looks smug>). I remembered because they're sheep and they're called mules. And they're kind of infertile donkeys. 

TRA: Scotch mules so 8/10.

Me: Harsh.

Me: Oh and there are square looking sheep that look like lego sheep. 

TRA: They're tups. 

Me: Oh.

TRA: And they're called Texels. 

Me: Noted.

Q: How big is the farm?

Me: <shrugs and grunts like a teenager>. It's quite big. It goes way up the hill and you can see Cairnsmore. Who knows how big an acre is anyway...?

TRA: 400 acres. And lots of people. 

Q: How many sheep are there?

Me: <shrugs and grunts>. 130? 

TRA: 230. 

Q: How many cows?

Me: WHAT'S WITH ALL THE QUESTIONS?!

TRA: 130. 

Q: Is there a sheepdog? 

Me: YES!! She's called Isa and she's training to be a working dog. I'm like her weekend Dad. I take her treats and don't discipline her. 

TRA: Yes. And she's far too spoiled.

Me: I KNOW!

Isa! 

So, there you have it. More of the things I don't know.