Counting Sheep

I didn't sleep well last night, which is unusual for me as I normally sleep the contented sleep of the righteous.

In fact last night I got less sleep than when Ben was last here and he went to bed later than the rest of us. Tucked up safely in our pits we could hear him trying to negotiate the perils of Rock HQ quietly and in the dark so as not to wake anyone. Eventually the house settled as the noise of him tip toeing up the bare wooden stairs faded into the distance and once we all got over the sounds of his metal door latch finally slamming shut we were able to concentrate on getting some serious shut eye.

Seconds later there was an explosion of swearing and a noise akin to Ben murdering an elephant in his room. I leapt out of bed to assist crossing the landing hoping that he had not brought a girlfriend home and that I wouldn't be interrupting any strange night time games they were engaged in. As I opened his door the barrage of swearing continued and Ben was stood, or rather, was dancing in his boxer shorts on his bed, thankfully he was alone in the room and the cause of his distress was now smeared across the wall. Ben had got into his bed and discovered that a very large wasp had also taken up residence. It took umbrage at having to share and so had retaliated to having its sleep disturbed by stinging him along his leg and back. This came as quite a surprise to Ben and had provoked the response that woke the household. Still, as I helpfully pointed out it was a good experience prior to his jungle training, which is where he is now, he is no doubt sharing his pit with dozens of bitey insects.

Back to last night and my insomnia.

My attempt to sleep didnt get off to a good start when, as I got into bed with my gorgeous wife she snuggled up and whispered "Have you put the birds away?"

The sudden realisation that I had in fact completely forgotten to shut the poultry away was a hammer blow. I dutifully got out of bed and set about the task. An advantage of living in such an isolated rural location is that no one was concerned that an overweight forty something man was wandering about the countryside in his underwear and wellingtons as he rounded up the geese, ducks and hens. Head count over I returned to the warmth of my bed and my now sleeping beauty.

All was well until about 2am when I woke up. Nothing I did could get me back to sleep. Tracey on the other hand was dead to the world. I tried counting sheep but kept focusing on how funny Ebony looks being sheared, she is the black one in the centre of the picture above. I wasn't worrying about anything but my mind just would not switch off and let me sleep.

I must have dozed off because at 3.15am I could see the first threads of dawns light filtering into the room. I lay for a while looking at the light patterns on the ceiling and walls realising that the sunrise takes place the other side of the house and doesn't alternately flash red and blue. Neither does the sunrise to the accompaniment of human voices, boots scrunching in the gravel and diesel engines. Tracey got to the window first. A collection of emergency service personnel were wandering about our yard with powerful torches and an assortment of reflective clothing. A beam of light illuminated Tracey in the window as she called out to them.

"Have you got a sixty year old man up there?" someone shouted. Tracey looked across at me, OK I didn't look my best at half three in the morning but I didn't look that rough to be mistaken for a sixty year old. She shouted down that she didn't and really at this stage she didn't want one, she was alright for men at present. The collection of paramedics, police and mountain rescue personnel having searched the grounds for missing men of pensionable age climbed back into their vehicles. By now the dogs and horses were voicing their opinions loudly on the subject. There was much too-ing and fro-ing of emergency vehicles, eventually the mountain rescue Land Rover reversed down the track and a very apologetic paramedic asked if we could move Rene so they could turn the ambulance around. They disappeared off down the lane leaving us to wonder what on earth was going on.

Perhaps The Oracle, our neighbour was ill again. We have before now driven past to find the air ambulance parked in his garden. This occurs so often that the last time the aircraft was just passing and decided to drop in for a brew. The Oracle has had quadruple by pass surgery on his heart but insists on running his farm, which at times places a bit of strain on the stitches holding his arteries together which leads to another emergency flight across the county.

Eventually we settled back to bed. Tracey fell asleep almost immediately which no doubt she will deny later on and I lay pondering the plight of who ever the emergency services were looking for.

The Bernese alarm clocks decided at 5.34 that they needed to visit the little dogs room in the garden so I gave in and got up.

Currently they are sleeping at my feet, Tracey is fast asleep and I feel like I should be. Especially as tonight I am going out with a gun to wait for the fox.

Me, tired, armed with a lethal weapon, what could possibly go wrong?

Double trouble

These two are currently the biggest trouble makers at Rock HQ.

It used to be Maggie that caused the mayhem but her antics have been out classed by these two felons.

Trevor the Shitland might look the epitome of cute on four hooves but his obsession with biting or humping animate and inanimate objects know no bounds. Having been dragged off the feed bin where he had been trying to have carnal knowledge with a sack of oats he further disgraced himself as he was led back to his luxury apartment. He jumped on my shoulders as we tackled the descent from Willow Rise.The gradient gave him a sudden sense of superiority as I led the way along the zig zag path on the steep section. He suddenly found himself above me and whilst my back was turned he decided to take the leap of faith and mount me. With a horse leg either side of my head pressing down on my shoulders it took a second or two for my panic stricken brain to register that I wasn't being mugged but that an amorous pony was trying to force his wicked way on me. I narrowly managed to avoid being stabbed in the back by a worryingly large part of this miniature horse's anatomy and clipped him around the ear once for not asking me nicely before trying it on and twice for giving me an inferiority complex.

Geisha has kept a low profile for a while but has obviously been undertaking Ninja training. She can now move so swiftly and silently that you are completely unaware of her presence. She can, for example stand in your blind spot, just behind you, and stay there. So no matter how many times you turn around like a pantomime Dame with the crowd baying "Behind you" she remains totally invisible. So great is this skill that she managed to get in the house and was found in the fire place eating a large and expensive bunch of flowers. No one saw her come in. She will get into the feed store as you carefully close the door behind you. You turn away from the door and find Geisha stood with her head in the feed bin where a second before the room was empty. Should this new found stealth fail she uses brute force and will headbutt a door to test the lock, several times doors left on the latch have been discovered and she has wreaked havoc before being turfed unceremoniously back outside.

Nothing is safe from her attention. I picked some roses from the garden for Tracey yesterday. It was some consolation that she did actually see them before Geisha ate them.

These two ruffians are lucky they are either pet status or they are mammals who are not culturally acceptable to be placed on the menu. A sheep behaving in this manner would have been put in Mr Whirlpool a long time ago.

I like sheep.

Especially with new potatoes and gravy.

Forward planning

Its been great here tonight, I managed to get a load of gardening done, watering all the plants takes about an hour with the hosepipe. Good job we collect hundreds of gallons from the stream everyday. I have been known to leave the tap on accidentally overnight to discover over 500 gallons of water has drained into the potato beds. That and the liberal helpings of Williams pooh might explain why my potato plants are now over three feet high.

I also managed to weed most of the beds, this aspect of gardening is made much easier by planting the crops a hoe width apart. Its great to see so many of our plants doing so well, the peas, sweetcorn, sprouts, squash, spuds, pumpkin, courgette and onions are flourishing. The cucumbers and cauliflowers are OK, but just like my school report often said, could do better. For some reason the cucumbers look like they are dying and the cauliflowers don't seem to want to grow. I suspect club root. I of course have no real idea and the book only mentions club root as something you should avoid, but doesn't really tell me much more. Apparently burying a chunk of rhubarb under the plant deters it. Failing that rhubarb water might solve it. I have yet to discover how to make aforesaid water but I do know clubroot hates the smell of it which doesn't bode well given my capacity for accidents.

The green houses are being productive, one has salad planted and we have enough for several meals this weekend, the tomatoes are flowering so hopefully will start fruiting. Even the grape vine is producing grapes. OK I lie, its gone out of control again and you need a machete to clear a path if you try to get past the doorway. I have given up trying to get in, there are too many other jobs to do without engaging in battle with an out of control vine. For all I know there are wild animals lurking in the greenery. The grape to foliage ratio is not very impressive anyway so struggling to retrieve the two grapes we have so far discovered requires too much effort and will not yield a very successful vintage.

It was very relaxing in the garden, listening to the heavy breathing of the Bernese Mountain Dogs waiting patiently by the garden gate, the melodic sounds of the birds singing in the trees and the deep rumbling sound which initially I mistook for an earthquake but turned out to be four Berkshire Pigs snoring their snouts off by the trough after a particularly large dinner. I have not gardened before, other than a few cress seeds scattered on cotton wool on the windowsill I have never grown anything before. Faced with a vegetable plot the size of Rock HQs was a daunting prospect but it can be managed provided you never ever let your mind think about how big the job ahead actually is. If you do that you are doomed, frozen into inaction by the enormity of the task. So I break it down into small bits, one bed at a time, and now all the beds are either full of plants or ready for whats in the greenhouse to be put out.

One thing I did allow myself to day dream about while out manfully tilling the soil was the little calf pictured above. Our plan to get some Dexters is gathering pace, more sales of my toy soldiers on ebay have yielded enough cash for the back half of the little cutie, I mean beef calf which as you can see the calf is only knee high.

How sweet is that, a miniature cow!

I mean great potential for steak.

After all it wont be a pet.

Its not just goats

Just to show its not just goats who get themselves into trouble in their efforts to get to the food first here is a clip of Meg having a spot of bother with a bucket.

Tonights Sunset

Amazing