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. 

Not my forte

Things you should know:
1. Ivie suffers from triskaidekaphobia. 
2. It's not as painful as it sounds. 

Last weekend, it felt like Spring was in the air for many of us. The sun shone, thermals were (prematurely) shed and daffodils were starting to make an appearance. 

It was also time to make a start on a job that I'd been slightly procrastinating about. Not because I'm lazy but because I lack the precision gene. Add to that shaky hands passed down from my Dad and it's safe to say that doing things neatly is not my forte. 

I'm much more aligned to the F*** it, it'll do school of thought or as Ivie and I frequently observe, 'it's better than it was'. This is a very adaptable phrase that is useful for many household situations. 

• Washed the kitchen floor but the puppy has already scattered her food over it? It's better than it was. 
• Cleaned the car but couldn't quite reach the top of the roof? It's better than it was. 
• Made the bed but it's not quite hotel standard? It's better than it was. 

I'm not like this with everything, though; just practical tasks. Once at my old house, my brother cut the hedge and suggested (strongly) that I sweep up the debris. I got bored quite quickly and started kicking bits back under the hedge where they couldn't be seen. 

I didn't notice I'd been noticed until my brother yelled, "Pretend it's a spreadsheet!". It's a source of great disappointment that those closest to me do not share my ability to see the beauty in a neat, well-designed spreadsheet. But I digress. 

Back to the job (almost) in hand: painting my shed. Painting the inside is beyond my clumsy and trembling capabilities but I figured I could probably tackle the outside without too many issues. (Basically I'm tight and wanted to make sure my shed wouldn't rot in the rain. Can you see why Ivie and I are so well suited...?).

I managed better than I expected before I had to draft in the big boys to reach the parts smaller women can't. I was very glad to have Ivie and Drew on hand to paint the higher sections. We won't talk about who got on the roof - and how - to paint the apex. 

There was a ladder propped up against the back of the shed and I ducked underneath it from time to time to touch up some of the spots I'd missed. I wondered aloud if anyone was superstitious about it (they weren't) and I carried on. Then we started discussing phobias and superstitions more generally. 

Neat decking...

The scores are in and it's Drew - 0; me - 1 (new shoes on the table, yikes!); Ivie - many and varied, including the aforementioned triskaidekaphobia (also known as extreme superstition regarding the number thirteen). 

It turns out that Ivie is really quite serious about his feelings for the number 13. There are no lambs with number 13 sprayed on them - they go straight from 12 to 14; he doesn't relax fully until we're down to 12 ewes left to lamb; and he doesn't much care for the volume on his car radio being at 13. 

Tidying up also not my forte

As of this afternoon, we're down to 12 ewes which pleases Ivie for a couple of reasons. Partly, it's not 13 and partly, the end is in sight. Although I've learned enough about lambing over the last couple of years to know that this last dozen will really string it out, probably for another fortnight. 

Still, it's better than it was. 

Just in Case

What you should know:

1. Sometimes it does come in handy.
2. I haven't decided how I feel about that. 

One of the great things about living on a farm is that there's always the right machinery, equipment or tool, whatever the job.  

Today, I sort of helped Ivie clear some ivy, which pleases the nerdy bit of my brain that likes words. The job itself didn't please me. "Ivie Ivy is endless," I protested, which was greeted by a raised eyebrow. We piled it into the loadall and Ivie took it away to pile behind the steading. 

The ivy was from around a couple of trees that were taken down earlier in the week. This means that a. we have much more light in the bedroom and an even better view of the Cree and b. there is firewood to last us a pretty long time. 

Ivie chopped up some of the smaller logs and I carried them round to the shed at the back of the house to dry out for a couple of days. In an ideal world, I'd have walked in, stacked them in a little pile and then had a cup of tea. 

Except, as with lots of sheds, stuff gets chucked in to be sorted out at a later date. Turns out that later date was today. 

We've already established that Ivie has a pathological inability to chuck out any clothes (see this blog). He also keeps pretty much everything else 'just in case'. I tend to be at the other end of the spectrum, having regular clear-outs and trying not to accumulate too much stuff. 

The thing is, sometimes the things that Ivie holds on to come in useful. The leftover kitchen tiles from his kitchen refit 10+ years ago became a hearth for my shed; Rudi's feed and water bowls once belonged to Millie, who passed away three years ago; and our drinks cupboard is full of glasses that came from the Riverside (which closed circa 2005).

I was quite restrained with the shed, though, and only threw out a sponge for washing the car that had disintegrated into hundreds of tiny pieces and a tin of magnolia paint that had turned into a magnolia brick. I left behind the floorboards from the old bathroom, the extra shelf for the bookcase we no longer have and the mouse trap with the broken spring. You never know, they might come in handy one day...

Make a Wish

What you should know:

1. Two of my dreams came true last week. 
2. There was no genie involved. 

I was a bit under the weather last week so didn't have much energy to enjoy two very exciting things that came into my life. The first has four legs and doesn't have an off switch and the second is static and offers respite from the first. 

Meet Rudi. 💜

She's a ten week old cocker spaniel. (She's bonkers and, erm 'enthusiastic' but apparently that's what we ordered.) She was so bonkers and enthusiastic the other night that I asked Ivie if we could trade her in for a cat. Apparently, that's not a thing.

I've wanted a dog for decades but I never seemed to have the right life. Turns out living on a farm during a global pandemic is ideal, especially with a dog-loving adopted family next door. She won't have to be on her own for long and will always have someone around to play with. 

The second thing that happened was my shed! 💜

Since I moved to D&G almost seven years ago, I've fancied my own shed. As a fully paid member of the introvert society, I dreamt about a little space to call my own with a comfy chair and a pile of books. Obviously, this is pure indulgence because:

• I've lived on my own for six of those years.
• Even now, I have the house to myself most of the time. 

I mentioned it casually when Ivie and I were discussing the possibility of us living together this time last year.

What I didn't count on was Ivie Knowing Everyone. You'd think I'd have learned by now. I don't think he realises what a short-cut it is to phone someone up and say, "Hi, it's Ivie. Can you help me with something?"

And so the wonderful Charlie of Shennanton Sawmill sent over pictures of sheds he'd made for other people so I could pick n mix what I liked best. 

As you can see, the end result is a beauty. There are some bits and pieces still to do, including moving my comfy chair and pile of books. The final, final result will probably feature in a future blog. Watch this space. 

In the meantime, wish me luck with the puppy. I'm sure she thinks her middle name is, "No". 

Una, I Have Failed You

Things you should know:
1. I was warned

When I published my first blog post, Ivie shared it on his Facebook page. Our friend, Una, whose husband is a farmer and who doesn't have a farm background herself commented thus:

"22 years Rebecca and I am still learning. However, there are some tips I must share with you before it’s too late. If Ivie knocks at the window, still wearing working clothes, and asks if you are busy the reply is ALWAYS YES. Don’t hesitate or look in any way uncertain, this sign of weakness is used to their advantage and before you know it you will be in a field with a stick chasing cows (or worse being chased by them). This includes day and night, moving a black cow in the dark, who doesn’t want to leave her pals... So always remember to have a busy idea stored in your head that is far too important to stop doing. 

Prepare an 'I am interested' face... It comes in very useful when farm names, market prices, sheep sales, cattle sales, tupping, calving, moving livestock, silage, lambing, fertiliser, slurry, weather and the death of someone - on a farm somewhere, you have never met or been to - is being discussed. 

I am a slow learner, it took almost 20 years of life on a farm to acquire these two skills. Unfortunately, I was too late with my act of being too busy, I started with a keenness to help, don’t make that mistake. For your sanity please heed my advice."

2. I didn't listen

Last week, Ivie's brother and family were on holiday. Ivie had a cold. You can see where this is going, dear reader. 

How could I refuse to open and shut a gate for 20 minutes over my lunch hour? At the moment, it's all a bit of a novelty and I quite enjoy getting my wellies, boiler suit and hat on. I've even customised my hat with a purple Sharpie so it says Megastar. Kinda. 

3. This post mentions shite a few times

For the non-farmers out there, Ivie was mucking out a shed, which involves shovelling cow shite with a wee digger called a loadall. It takes a few loads so, without help, it's a bit of a pain to get in and out of the loadall each time you're going into/out of the shed. Leaving the gate open risks your calves going walkabout. 

Nosy cows

Slightly worryingly, I'm getting a bit immune to the smell of shite. Nowadays I don't recoil every time Ivie comes in for a cuddle after being out working. There are still times where I have to insist that the work clothes go in the washing machine instead of back on the next day, though. 

There are also little things I would know if I actually worked on the farm instead of just playing at it for 20 minutes every couple of weeks. You should wash your boots after standing in shite, otherwise they end up looking like this. 

I admitted to Una that I'd got roped into helping and her response was straight to the point:

"It's a slippery slope. Very slippery."

I'm doomed.