Living with an Extrovert

 Things you should know:

1. I am an introvert.
2. Ivie is not.
3. There's more than one sweeping generalisation coming up.

There are lots of definitions of introverts and extroverts out there. Without getting too detailed, one of the main differences is how they recharge their batteries: introverts get their energy back from being on their own; extroverts by being surrounded by people. 

It's one of the reasons that I enjoyed the time that I lived on my own so much and thought I'd never want to live with anyone Ever Again. 

In some ways, being an introvert farmer's WAG is the perfect set-up, though. I have the house to myself for hours at a time and am (just about) ready for company when Ivie gets home. This is what usually happens:

In Ivie's case, it involves putting on the radio, wandering to his desk, scrolling through Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Snapchat and WhatsApp on his phone while watching tractor porn on the computer all at the same time. I whimper quietly while switching off the radio, shutting the kitchen door and just about coping with the noise of the kettle. 

One of the ways this difference shows up between us is when we're socialising. Those of you that know Ivie will know that he's usually the last to leave any party. You know when they 'subtly' turn on the lights and wash the floor? Ivie will still be chatting away to someone he's known for 30 years or 30 minutes and having the time of his life. I'll have peaked early and retreated hours ago and will also be having a grand old time. And a cuppa. 

Rock n roll introvert style

It doesn't mean I didn't enjoy myself or that I didn't like the people I met, it's just that I ran out of steam before he did. And Ivie gets it. He doesn't try to change me or make me feel guilty for always being pretty much the first to leave. 

Anyway, Ivie's best mate had a big birthday this week (yes, Marcus turned 21). For various reasons, I managed to miss both of his celebrations but it meant that Ivie could see everyone he'd missed during lockdown all in one go - extroverts are very efficient in this way. 

While lockdown and shielding wasn't too bad for me because of my introvert tendencies, it does mean that getting out into the outside world is taking me a bit longer. It's a noisy, overwhelming place for someone who only saw people with the surname Fisher for four-and-a-half months. Great as they are, I'm looking forward to broadening my socialising horizons over the coming weeks and months. See you there.

PS thanks to the people I haven't met yet who are regular readers 😊

Not a WAG

Things I know:

• I'm woefully unqualified to be a Farmer's WAG*
• That's ok

As I may have mentioned once or twice, I don't come from a farming background. I'm most definitely a townie and one without many lifeskills if I'm honest. 

I was quite nervous about meeting other WAGs when I first started seeing Ivie. I had visions of them all running around doing the farm accounts with one hand, feeding a pet lamb with the other, while waiting for yet another perfect Victoria sponge to come out of the oven. To be fair, I still think most of them could do this but luckily they don't seem to mind that I can't.

Not really a Victoria sponge

My first experience of WAGs was quite full-on. We were off to a Burns Supper where I knew exactly one other person in the room (Ivie) and he knew everyone (of course). I was hideously anxious. It was the first time I'd met Ivie's brother and sister-in-law (in the car on the way there so not exactly relaxed) and I was asking myself all sorts of stupid questions (in my head otherwise that would have been weird). 

• what if everyone thinks my dress looks stupid?
• what if they think I'm not good enough for him?
• what if they think he should be with someone who went to Young Farmers?

Not really a pet lamb

Obviously, the answer to all of these questions is the same: there was too much booze for anyone to care.

For the non-farmers, let me say something about Young Farmers. Before I was with Ivie, I thought it was just where young folk went to ensnare meet their significant other and learn quite fixed gender-based skills: baking and sewing for the girls; drinking and fighting for the boys. Now I know that's not really the case. The young men and women involved in YF around here are involved in all sorts of things, including public speaking, stock judging and raising the positive profile of farming. Here endeth the lesson.

I headed for the bar and was immediately flanked by two women. Let's call them Nic and Barbara for argument's sake. The conversation went something like this:

Nic (in one breath): "You must be Rebecca. We're Nic and Barbara. What are you drinking? Red wine? Let's get a bottle."

The women reading this will nod in agreement when I say that women can be absolutely magnificent to other women and it's bloody marvellous. 

Suffice to say, my anxiety faded. I drank and I laughed and I laughed and I drank. And that's pretty much been my experience of WAGs ever since. 

* WAG = A Wife or Girlfriend, usually of a sports player with a high profile and glamorous lifestyle

Not really a WAG