Not Such a Perfect Day

What I've been thinking about this week:

• Teamwork

Ivie and I are pretty similar in a lot of ways. We're both a bit lazy about housework, neither of us is bad cop when it comes to puppy training and we find each other hilarious (thankfully). 

Who's in charge here? I'll give you one guess....

I can't imagine being with someone that a. I don't find hilarious and b. Doesn't find me hilarious (as in funny haha, not funny peculiar). Laughing every day makes my world go round. 

World events sometimes make it hard to find something to laugh at but our little world usually provides good comedy fodder. The punchlines often involve shite and are delivered during meal times but I'm getting used to adapting my description of a dirty joke. 

Of course, there are lots of ways we differ, too, such as our tolerance to cow shite on our clothes, skin and soft furnishings, as well as our ability to reverse large piece of machinery in small spaces (I don't need to try to know that I would cause thousands of pounds worth of damage).

These similarities and differences do mean that we make a pretty good team, though. 

Yesterday's team task in glorious sunshine involved me holding the dog and proffering treats and encouragement while Ivie clipped her fur. It's not quite up to Crufts standard but it's better than it was. 

Gratuitous puppy pic

Today's weather has taken a turn for the worse and it feels more like February than the end of June. The wind is howling and the rain is coming down in sheets, making it Ivie's least favourite kind of day. Why's that, I hear you ask. Well, because it's the perfect day for doing bills. 

Here's how much Ivie enjoys it. 

11.08am   We start doing the first bill. 

11:16am   Ivie: Is it time for a break yet? 
                 Me: We've been doing this for 8 minutes.
                 Ivie (with petted lip): It feels like 8 hours. 

Not Ivie's Happy Place

So, the kitchen is a bit of a tip and the dog is running rings round us but at least the money will come in and we'll still be laughing at our own jokes. 

Wearing it Well

Things you should know:

1. I've never been fashionable (although you've probably guessed that by now). 
2. That's ok. 

I think it was inevitable that I ended up living with a farmer on a farm. The uniform is great and suits me down to the (muddy) ground.

It won't surprise you to know that I've never been a dedicated follower of fashion. Being born in the 70s and having two older brothers means the hand-me-downs were more tomboy than Tammy Girl and that's been pretty much my 'style' (if you can call it that) since then. There was that time circa 1982 that my mum wouldn't let me get a rara skirt but, on reflection, that's maybe no bad thing. 

These days, I'm happiest in jeans and wellies or head-to-toe waterproofs for walkies in the rain. There haven't exactly been many opportunities for getting dressed up this year anyway and that actually suits me fine. Given the choice, it's comfort over style every time, although I haven't quite resorted to working from home in my jammies. 

There has been lots of chat recently about 80s style making a comeback, what with Diana and The Crown and the Quality Street dresses on Strictly. I'm slightly horrified but then I remember that it's unlikely that boiler suits will suddenly have ruffled collars or waterproof leggings will become pleated and high waisted. 

My last blog was all about the uncertainties in farming but I'm reassured by the constancy of some things. 

• There will always be two pairs of muddy wellies and leggings at the door.
• I'll know it's below freezing when Ivie finally gets the thermals out the back of the wardrobe. 
• There will never be a shoulder pad in sight. 

You take the high road

 Things I know:

• Detours in Wigtownshire are l-o-n-g
• Local knowledge definitely helps

On Wednesday we had a huge amount of rain. Our neighbour's rain gauge recorded 2 inches in 24 hours. For various reasons, we decided that Wednesday was a good day for us to drive an 80-mile round trip to Dumfries to collect a second hand wood burner. 

[For clarity, when I say 'we' decided, I mean 'I' and for 'us' to drive I mean 'Ivie'. But you probably knew that already.]

On the way there, we took it steady and passed through a couple of major puddles\minor rivers. We spent less than ten minutes in Dumfries (it would have been two and a half if we haven't driven past the right house three times...) then set off for home. 

We got about 12 miles from the Spittal and were discussing what to have for tea when we drove into a wall of water just before Gatehouse. Thankfully we were in the pick-up so powered through it. (Ivie's so calm that it wasn't until afterwards that I realised it was probably a bit dicey.) Anyway, we got to the bottom of the hill and could see flashing lights in the distance. And a long line of lorries going nowhere. 

For those unfamiliar with the delights of the A75, it's the main route from the border to the Ireland and Northern Ireland ferries at Cairnryan. As it goes through Wigtownshire it follows the coast. Which is a problem when there are accidents or hold-ups. Or lorries stuck in flood water in this case. 

When we spoke to the police officer at the Road Closed sign (who was 12 because we're officially middle aged), we realised that we had a Wigtownshire detour ahead of us.

"Can we go up to the Glen road?" asked Ivie. 

The youngster shook his head, "It's really bad, there's no way past."

"But we could turn off and follow the road over the hill,"

"No, it's all blocked."

"We're going to have to go via Gatehouse Station aren't we?"

"'Fraid so."

 

Oh joy. 

The thing about Gatehouse Station is that a) it's bloody miles from Gatehouse b) there's no station and c) it's on pretty much a single track road. Up a hill. 

On a good day the views are spectacular. On a bad day with biblical rain and a big lorry in a big puddle, it is full of other locals going in both directions with limited passing places and mixed reversing ability. 

Big Water of Fleet Viaduct on a good day
(Near Gatehouse Station)
Photo by Ivie

It sounds like I'm moaning but without Ivie's knowledge of the back roads, I'd have been sitting in a queue of traffic for a few hours. Luckily, we only added an extra half hour on to our journey, got home safe and dry and had pizza for tea. I'm just glad we actually bought the stove. But more of that in a future blog...

Looking towards Gatehouse Station
Photo by Ivie