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

Step away from the caramel wafers

Things you should know: 

1. I'm not a natural athlete.
2. I really like biscuits. 

The end of March/beginning of April is a bit of a calorie-fest in our family. My brother and I have birthdays two days apart, we're both sugar fiends and, often, Easter is thrown into the (batter) mix as well. 

Birthday cake baked by Ivie

Recently, I've been trying to get back into running to offset the choco liebniz. So far, so slowly. Almost 30 years after leaving school, I still carry that self-consciousness of being picked last for every team and the memories of sporty kids sniggering. I've ditched the 'all the gear, no idea' neon in favour of all black and, although I look like I'm off to deliver a box of Milk Tray, I feel much more comfortable shuffling and puffing my way along the cycle path. 

I think about lots of unrelated things as I shuffle along. Like how I used to have lie-ins before we got a puppy and how Ivie and I used to go to bed at the same time before lambing. (It hasn't escaped me that many of these thoughts are sleep related...)

"Lie-ins? Pah!"

I also wonder about farmers and sport:

• Are they genetically predisposed to enjoy - and excel at - sport?
• Are they automatically competitive or is it instilled into them at Young Farmers?
• Does it matter that I'm from a different mould? 

I'm not sure about the answers to the first two and I know that the answer to the third should be 'no'.  

I learned early on to stay away from anything other than spectator sports in the farming community (you might remember my lack of success at curling). It's all down to an ill-judged evening at the sidelines of a hockey match. 

Like so many things, I'd said 'yes' before really thinking about it. I'd not long done a 10k (slowly but without stopping) so was fairly fit and thought I might have, say, a 30% chance of hitting the ball. It might be a bit of a laugh and a good way to meet some of Ivie's friends. 

I watched the first game with fear and awe as the players whacked the ball from one end of the hall to the other, while simultaneously cackling and sprinting. This wasn't sport, it was torture! Ivie ended up on the floor at one point after trying to intercept a flying ball. Proof, if any was needed, that I'm definitely from a different mould.

Ball just out of reach? Oh well, I might get it next time. Not the attitude that's called for apparently. 

I prefer a nice cup of tea and a sit down

So, I watched from the side, feeling slightly daft in my kit whilst pressed up against the wall for safety. It was obvious to everyone that I had no intention of actually joining in but at least I went home bruise-free. 

I guess everyone's definition of sporting success is different. 

Sporting Life

Things you should know:
1. In general, farmers are good at most sporting endeavours and are more than a little competitive.
2. I am neither of those things. 

I spent last weekend at sporting events – rugby on Saturday and curling on Sunday. 

Saturday was the annual Spice Cup, a local derby between Newtown Stewart RFC (based near Wigtown) and Wigtownshire RFC (based in Stranraer). Confused? Yep, me too... 

The venue alternates between the two and this year we were back at NSRFC. This is good because:

• I can drive home when the chat becomes dominated by 'Rugby games we have known and loved' and 'Here's a story that lacks a beginning, middle and end but I'll expect you to follow it even though you haven't had 8 pints in the last three hours’. 
• I know lots of people so don't need babysat. 
• I know who to ask when I want a cup of tea rather than alcohol. 

A lot of Ivie's farmery friends are fellow players from a golden age. From what I can gather, scrums were properly contested, only the captain could address the ref and you could tell what position someone played by their, ahem, physique. (“Aye, the good old days,” says Ivie).  

They all have amazing memories for games from 30 years ago, who they were up against, who took their clothes off on the bus home and, perhaps most importantly, who started the fights. I'm missing this competitive gene so I'm slightly bemused by all this but I'm really glad other people possess it otherwise rugby matches wouldn't be very interesting.

So, Saturday was fairly straightforward as all I had to do was spectate, wear my NSRFC bobble hat and go back to collect Ivie six and a half hours after I’d left him at the bar.

Sunday was a different matter entirely. I’ve somehow become involved with an entire family that is sporty and competitive (I refer you to the top of the page…). They choose to take part in sport for their Christmas get together! Sporty and coordinated people don’t quite understand how intimidating this can be. It’s a bit like me suggesting we do a page of algebra before Christmas Dinner since I was good at maths at school. 

Until about three weeks ago, I hadn’t tried curling before. Here’s how I got on…. 

Sunday was slightly better as I decided to stay still rather than try and glide. It’s quite hard when everyone else started curling at age 10, as opposed to 45 and it’s a popular sport in the farming community as, in theory, the winter is less busy. 

To be fair, everyone was very encouraging and I did really enjoy myself as we weren’t keeping score and expectations were low. I don’t think curling is my sport, though, so this will be my view from now on.