back in the lambing shed....

....not a lot happening really - two weeks of full time shepherdess duties and what have I got to show for it - six lambs from five ewes. All delivered in secret when no one was about, all lambs fiercly protected by doting mothers - it makes such a change from what we have been used to over the past years with Texels - no rolling about the floor at midnight trying to persuade a heavyweight ewe with post natal depression to feed her offspring that she had hated at birth.

At counting up time this morning I couldn't get to six lambs - I searched, I recounted, I walked the field - I started to panic. As I moved a ewe from by the tree stump I found her lamb - carefully hidden down a hole out of the wind. I left him there and she sat back down to cover him up again. Dont interfere is the name of the game so I won't!

With being so not required in the lambing shed we have escaped to deliver rescue chickens up to Bodran mountain and take the dog for a swim in the sea at Rhyl. Its years since I have been to the seaside at Rhyl and I had dim memories of a seedy dump - gosh what a surprise - its been 'done up' it is now all painted pink and fancy concrete - wow! Very impressed!

We found our way home via a certain shop in Denbigh where we had a welcome cuppa amongst the rails of gorgeous summer clothes.

On Friday we were headed for Erddig - National Trust property only to find on checking the book that it does not open on a Friday - neither does Whitwick Manor, nor Dudmaston Hall - I gave up then and there. We went to visit the Victorian Farm at Acton Scott - first time without children in tow.

Clumper the heavy horse knows he's a TV star and behaved like a prima donna for his public! Whilst his 'driver' discussed agriculture with visitors Clumper got bored and then hungry = then he was off back towards his stable with the heavy roller bumping along the road. He was not deterred by the yelling that ensued - I'm afraid I stood and laughed, I was no help what so ever.

The bailiff's cottage was open and the lady of the house was busy making soup - it smelt divine. There were piglets, dozens of them all spotted and very new looking, geese, chickens and long horned cattle. The wheelwright was busy wheelwrighting and in the schoolroom coffee was served on place mats that were like old school slates. It was all beautifully presented and a credit to those who spend so much time making sure that everything is authentic.

We sat in nearby Cardingmill valley watching the dozens of walkers cascading down the hillsides in the glorious sunshine and then it was back to the lambing shed - in full expectation - forget it still just five mums and six lambs - at this rate we will still be lambing next Christmas - yawn

A Friday in April

...and if I misspell any word by leaving an 'f' out blame the keyboard its going wonky.

I haven't been in here for an age - about a foot of dust and yellowed paper, needs a good spring cleaning but no time today.

I'm ON HOLIDAY - well if that's what this is - shall I say I am not going daily to my paid place of employment, instead its up at the crack of dawn and down to the sheep fields to check on the mum's in waiting. Just one lamb so far - looking after 14 is as time consuming as 40. Back home to walk dogs through the woods to expend some of their energy and get me a bit fitter, a desk job for the majority of the time isn't that good for a body really - so its two weeks of pushing off the winter fat. Loads of other tasks that needed doing are getting done, holiday sorted, BT sorted, chimney swept, hedge sorted, ironing - nah, OU assignment ditto .....getting there, well there's another week yet isn't there?

Anyway back to 30th March - the junior shepherd had his heart operation at the very high tech hospital in Stoke on Trent. We were up bright and early to drive there but didn't allow for traffic in said city and the fact the hospital is a town on its own - we were well past the allotted time of 8:30am when we rushed through the doors of the cardiac unit. Nice consultant met us in the corridor - he was dressed in his garb ready for action - 'C'mon I want you now' he shouted to G who was busy stripping off jumper as he followed in his wake at a rate of knots - we just chased up the rear gathering up clothes as they came off like a chrysalis emerging...then they were through the 'No Entry' doors and that was that. The doors crashed back - consultant barked 'Book him in mother' and was gone again.......... I did as I was told and we wandered out into the murky streets of Stoke on Trent. We found Mooorcroft pottery more by accident than design and I duly whimpered around the display shelves. I failed to raise a whimper in Dudson or another one we found ourselves in. Doulton was shut up and partly demolished, Spode has gone and we didn't get as far as Aynsley before being summoned back to the hospital.

G was sitting up all bright eyed and bushy tailed eating his lunch, nice consultant comes barking down the line of trollies. 'I've got rid of six rogue vessels' - 'SIX?' I squeaked wandering how much there was left, we only thought there was one 'rogue', 'Yes six, and I need to have another three out but six is enough for one day....' then he produced beore and after pics and I thought I was going to pass clean out. 'He is likely to have a lot of pain, if its not bearable come into local hospital for analgesic help, he's lost a lot of blood, will be dizzy and faint - take him home - see you in the summer - bye!'

The shepherd was on home nursing duties in the days that followed - home nursing doesnt come that easy to him really, being a patient doesnt come that easy to Jnr shepherd either - they had words, he got better very quickly. The difference is amazing, nice colour, no headaches, RUNNING - never seen before.

So he goes back up to the coast on Sunday to resume his studies a lot fitter than when he left there on 27th March. 'Shirley' the long board will be going too.........ahem!

Meanwhile spring has sprung, the pussy willow tree in the front garden is amazing, the sweet smell of the spring flowers is coming in through every window and we have only got one lamb after one week of full time shepherdessing. I can however get nearer to the girls now, they have come down off the top of the bank to have a look at me ........

phew - time passes at a remarkable rate..........

..............when you are enjoying yourself!
Well its been galloping along well here on a windy hillside looking at Wales.
The junior shepherd did a whistlestop trip home last weekend bringing a friend or five that needed feeding and generally caring for. At one stage I found two of them asleep on the sofa - obviously hard work this university life! They were deposited back to the little station at Welshpool in time to catch the 7:50 train back to the coast, clutching carrier bags of my cupboard comtents and clean washing - bless!

The sheep are all wobbling along nicely, at least they are staying at home now instead of disappearing all day and coming home at night. This picture is for Bayou - we never got a close up view of them in the flesh this weekend, we never actually had the time. Lambing is due after Easter. They can still be a little bit flighty, the header picture was taken by me walking away from them, and them being as nosey as nosey can be came to see where I had gone when I crouched down. Just like naughty kids!

Well Friday was a day to remember - I was off with wet hair as per usual to find Bayou who had come over from Belgium to join in a Border Bloggers meet up. With much shrieking and hugging we were off on a whistlestop tour of South West Shropshire - we got up into the hills and down into Bishops Castle. The sun shone from a brilliant cloudless sky and BC looked as though it had been brushed especially. So sad however to find more empty shops, more businesses closed and gone, such a shame.

As we hurtled around the lanes I was quite amazed at the way the continual weeks of heavy snow and ice has left the countryside looking so drab, as though all the life blood has been sucked out. The grass is yellow and flat, the verges are full of black mud, the trees are bare - we need a good dose of sunshine and some warmth to rectify all this tiredness.

A quick dash to Shrewsbury station to retrieve an anxious Lawyerlady who had managed to get her self propositioned by a couple of drunks at lunch time - cant leave her anywhere on her own that one! Then full steam ahead to The Lowfield at Marton which has been the choice once before for a bloggers get together. Its big, its spacious, its airy, comfortable and the food's good, the barman/waiter is a rugby player - hmmmmmmmmmmm 12 women and one rugby player - he didnt stand a chance really - bless his cotton socks.

There was much shrieking and laughing - quite normal. There was chocolate - cheers Bayou.

There was reminiscing about Country Living, Children Chocolate and Wine and how we have all found each other, then Twiglet and Jane realised they had actually gone to the same school! Honest! Why has Mountainear got a lamp growing out of her head? Sorry I'll try harder next time!

Mollygolver and I realised we both knew a man in the village - not as in the biblical sense I hasten to add! Somewhere along the proceedings Friko attempted to translate for Bayou the well known saying 'All fur coat and no knickers' and mayhem ensued. I think the best expression could be 'lost in translation' - totally! Even said rugby playing host visibly paled.

Exercise and fresh air was the only remedy and so it was a motely collection of cars that climbed up to the mountain kingdom of Trelystan to find the little church in a field looking down to the valley. Just beautiful at any time of the year but truly magically with carpets of snowdrops in amongst the leaning gravestones. we enthused at the barrel organ, the lights, the kneelers and the stained glass, we marvelled at the love and dedication that goes into keeping this little corner of religion well tended and cared for. Then it was down to Mountainear's for tea.

We all talk away like long lost friends who have known each other for years and yet for over half of those on Friday they were meeting in the flesh for the very first time - the power of the written word strikes again - and very nice it is too. Next? Come on, you know you want to.....

co-incidence or ............?

Somewhere on a list of fave books on a blog profile is the title 'Driving Over Lemons' - it was a title that appealed, and last week scrummaging around a bookstall - there it was. By Saturday night it had practically burnt a hole in the bedside table I was that desperate to start it.......

I was not to be disappointed! I absolutely loved it but..... did I have a surprise.........anybody who has read this lovely book will undoubtedly remember Chloe's christening undertaken by the botanist/retired vicar - Richard Blakeway Phillips who was in Andalucia with his wife Eleanor - I sort of squawked/shrieked waking up sleeping husband 'I know them' - you can imagine husband's response -'well I don't - so SHUT UP!' 'But you DO...' I persisted at my peril....

Anybody who lives or has lived in Clun would know them - I have no idea where they are now, but it was so strange finding them popping up in a book about living in Spain written by a former Genesis drummer. How weird is that?

Today we were on our way to take the lawnmower to be serviced and stopped at the garage - a frantically waving woman in a car got my attention - big hugs and much squealing later - we had been friends since primary school, all through secondary school but then our paths had gone in totally different directions. Not any more - we have re-converged! Look Out WORLD - we have already been on the phone non stop - the e mail traffic has started!

After delivering lawn mower it was on to the road to Welshpool to Coed Y Dinas to find the shepherd some new boots, Coed Y Dinas was SHUT! Unbelievable! A power cut did the damage apparently - so on we went to Newtown which despite a new Tesco feels as though its dying on its feet - more empty shops than ever, market stalls thin on the ground - then I got another surprise as somebody shouted my name - a neighbour who had moved away a few years ago came from behind a display of ethnic scarves - more hugging and squeaking, shepherd was included this time. Thank goodness.

Meanwhile on with the task - no boots in Newtown - back to Welshpool - success - thank you Mr Gwythyr - mind you if we had gone up to Bishops Castle in the first place like wot I wanted to....I'll say no more.

It's Valentine's Day tomorrow and yes it's the shepherd's birthday - never has there been a more un apt birthday for a person - EVER! I really will say no more ...................

..

Good Days - Bad days

I am unashamedly nicking a blog title and format from Mountainear, I absolutely writhed when I read her blog of this title never thinking that within a few days there was only one way to describe the Wednesday from Hell that was yesterday.

Hmmmmm it started well enough - well that's if you have the overpowering urge to catch a train to Wolverhampton, find the imposing building that houses The Magistrates Court and attend a training course which was so inspiring I can't or the life of me remember what the hell it was called. Wolverhampton on a wet day in February would never have inspired Wordsworth that's for sure, I looked out of a tightly shut window down onto the dirty red brick and wet slates, a few pigeons fluttered aimlessly across the rooftop and the ventilation shafts puffed clouds of warm air out into the greyness. There was still salt and grit on all the pavements but no sign of snow or ice just depressing clinging wetness. The trains were on time and wonderously there were free seats - (I never got over standing all the way to Shrewsbury from Birmigham one vey hot day next to a very hairy, sweating man in a dirty vest - yuk!)

Adventure into the heart of the Black Country over, heave a sigh of relief and look foward to the evening ahead.......

That believe it or not was the good bit - now for the bad bit...........

The little family down in the valley are now firmly back in the working routine and everything is, or rather has to be, planned like a military operation with every eventuality covered. So Wednesday nights we have to step in to a gap that happens now and again when N is on nights starting at 6pm and T is on days and doesnt get home until after 8:30 - no problem! I should be able to rustle up a meal for us, feed and bed two babes and feed a tired mum when she gets in - of course I should - so just WHY did everything go so wrong yesterday?

I drove home working out in my head what I was going to cook and jumped when nearing the village blue lights flashed in my rear view mirror, I pulled over as you do and proceeded to follow the ambulance into the village. It indicated right - so did I! The front door was open and there was a lot of activity - I parked around the back and legged it into the house thinking one of the babes had been taken ill. In the lounge a strange man sat entertaining the two little ones whilst what ever was going on went on in the hallway. I asked the perfect stranger who seemed very pleasant what on earth was going on -

It appeared that N had been feeling unwell for a couple of days and it had finally culminated in him feeling faint, ringing T (who was 10 miles away at work) she rang a friend in the village who was out but her very kind husband rushed in to find N flat out on the bathroom floor - out cold. When I tried to peer round the door all I could see was N's feet sticking out through the door and bottoms in green trousers all bending over him - I could hear them laughing so wasn't unduly worried - I meant they arent that callous are they these ambulance personnel ?

T then rushed in through the door, the friend arrived and a couple of neighbours and basically it was a full house - should I make tea - I thought - then thought better of it - didnt think there enough cups for a start.....

The decision was made to take N into A&E for some tests and very soon they were on their way with one demented T and friend following close behind. I said goodbye to all the other folk ,who ever they were, and heaved a sigh of relief as the door closed. I changed the baby and fed the pair of them, tidied up, cooked tea and waited for my other half to appear - and waited and waited ..........yep - he had forgotten where he was dining and was patiently sitting at home with a roaring log burner and Thursday night's tea cooking ......

Middle son rang him, 'I've broken down, where's mum I need the AA card details?' he asked

'Where are you?' asks N trying to be helpful father....

'In the car' came the reply .......

'WHERE ARE YOU?' helpful father tries again - slowly and with feeling

'IN THE SODDING CAR!' equally slowly with increasing exasperation came the reply.

Its a wonder we ever get anything done in our house ...............

Eventually the light dawned on the errant husband where I was and where he should have been, the AA found the wayward son and delivered him to us , and N was diagnosed with an viral ear infection ..........

did we laugh...best laid plans and all that .......

Better luck next Wednesday!

so that was Christmas was it?

...and it's over, thank goodness. It's not that I am against it or anything but I just never have the time to actually do it justice. I'd love to be able to titivate and do creative things with a holly branch and a few balls but it takes me all my time just to cut to the chase, grab a turkey, smack mince pies together and stuff decorations on a wobbling tree. Said tree fell over this year - was lying on the sofa like a overweight bejewelled harlot the morning after, so I shoved it on to the floor and said those immortal words of a stressed mother 'SOD IT!' But the aghast looks of the surrounding pack of males that dominate this hovel on the hillside made me pick the the blowsy bint up and stick her back on her perch in the window where she can beckon to the outside world each evening until 5 January.

So it eventually came to pass in a whirl of cooking, clearing away, more cooking, more clearing away. As I sat peeling the inevitable mountain of sprouts I thought of Woozle in a hospital bed in London, fighting so bravely - instead of a 'x' on each one this year we had a 'w' - bless her and her hubby Jimmy.

We left the house behind on Boxing Day and yomped through the woods to get some of that crisp cold fresh air - it was like the rush hour on every footpath and stile! The world and his wife were out in force taking the air. Meanwhile back at the ranch - more cooking and clearing add an ironing mountain and two bulging washing baskets and you get the picture......and this is Christmas....

A hospital trip in deep snow for the junior shepherd early one morning left him with his hair standing really on end without gel! Having his nether regions shaved into a mohican to match may just have put him off hair sculpture or ever - well we can but hope! One more trip and he should be sorted.

Before we knew it it was New Year's Eve and our first venture into a street party to welcome in the New Year. An added complication - about a foot of snow and solid ice all down the lane. Much cooking was being done in kitchens still jaded from Christmas - the last few weary mince pies struggled into a hot oven, were promptly forgotten only to emerge some hours later as missiles that could bring down aircraft on the Manchester - Europe flight path which passes over our houses.

The gathering point was a garage, the heating was a chiminea, the food was hilarious varying from Sri Lanka veg curry to ubiquitous cocktail sausage rolls, tiramisu and syrup sponge and custard, a collection of slo cookers held mulled wine and cider punch and what resembled fruit salad - 'bung it all in' seemed to be the way to go. As the adults, wrapped in more layers of thermals than woolly onions, nattered away in the garage the kids revelled in the freedom of playing in the snow and ice by the light of the full moon and they didn't seem to feel the cold at all. The chiminea waddled into the garage at one point but had to waddle out again because of the fumes from the smokeless fuel which gave us lot half an hour of hysteria as we made up headlines for the newspapers - 'Peculiar village cult exposed as whole street die in fume filled garage whilst children were left in the snow' etc etc

Games followed and apparently somewhere there is a photograph of yours truly running up the garage with a white balloon between my knees - no ..I don't want to see it thank you. With all the layers we collectively admitted to having donned, a game of Strip Jack Naked would have taken us well towards the Spring equinox.

As the witching hour arrived we all went out staggering on the ice - whether it was the ice or the effects of the mulled wine we shall never know. Just as we slid into a circle with all the kids with frozen wet gloves - yuk, Big Ben struck midnight on the radio, and a single Japenese lantern floated over the wooded hillside in the moonlight somebody whispered it was a soul on its way to heaven and I thought of Woozle and hoped that she was peaceful in London and not in pain. Fireworks lit the sky and cheers echoed up rom the valley - we sang a bit and kissed a lot and finished the mulled wine and the experienced party goers managed to keep going with a bottle of whisky and Sloe vodka until well after 3am.

Sadly Woozle passed away in London at 6;20pm on New Years Eve and a very special, very brave and funny lady will no longer leave comments below. Woozle was one of the first bloggers I actually met way back in 2007 and we have remained in contact ever since. It was Woozle who took the remains of my shocked chickens after the fox came to call. We planned a rendevouz on a car park in Leominster and spent a hilarious half hour with a carrier bag of beetroot that had been rolling round after a market - did we laugh! That's how I shall remember Woozle - laughing like a mad woman scrabbling under cars looking for stray beetroot whilst balancing a chicken crate on the roof of the car as our bemused husbands shook their heads in disbelief.

Winter

If I should be the first to go away

Out of the golden sunlight of our peace,

When the dear sacrement of common day

And lowly, love empurpled tasks shall cease;

When the old books beside the evening fire

neglected lie, and closed the garden gate,

And from our hill the blossom tinted shire

Gathers for us an air disconsolate -

Then, oh beloved! Hold me close, so close,

Nearer than thought of pain or sad regret;

So wrapped in you, I even should regret;

The lifelong dread of parting; and the rose

Of June would flower for me, though cold and slow

And weary on our roof-tree fell the snow.

Speak to me then with that most tender voice,

Wherein I hear the forest murmur fall,

The songs of the corn and velvet throated doves

That each on each with muted music call,

Minding each other of their leafy loves.

So gathered safe within your voice, your eyes,

Your dear protecting smile, I shall not know

When the black frost sets in, the dark wind cries.

For as the squirrel and the mole, so warm

Within their snow proof chambers, and the bee

Walled in with summer, wake not, through the storm

Beseigegs hive and forest - so with me

All will be well; for sealed in dreamless slumbers,

I shall not know my world is desolate,

Ages may pass, like leaves that no man numbers,

Whilst in the nest of love I hibernate.

From Spring Of Joy - Mary Webb

Drowning in a sea of vinegar......

....well that's what it feels like at the moment but the end is in sight. When MIL passed away I took on the duty of Christmas Pickle monitor for the family, it was ordained to be because her MIL had passed me her recipes some years before. Recorded in her spidery writing on blue Basidon Bond paper, some in Welsh, some in English - most are in both, all mixed up so it makes for good fun at the weighing out stages especially for the picallilli of which I have no option but to make gallons!

We had never had pickles at home when I was growing up, my mother had an aversion to vinegar and as far as she was concerned pickled anything was simple the work of the devil, especially onions. I remember watching Christine and Maureen Jones at a Sunday School party eating all the pickled onions and wondering what they tasted like - I was far too scared to try one myself.

So I was to be re educated when we went into deep Mid Wales to visit Nanna at Christmas time. It was a ritual, we all had to go for tea one Sunday just before Christmas. It was quite a crowd that squeezed in around the table for cold meat and pickles. I gazed in wonder at the jars that kept coming out of the old Welsh dresser, every colour imaginable. There was the deep purple of the beetroot (sliced or chutney) the gold picallilli, the bronzed onions (with cauliflower and teeny tomatoes) green tomato chutney, runner bean chutney, gherkins, eggs with chillies, the jars just kept on coming each labelled with that spidery writing and dated meticulously and had been filed in date order in the dresser. It was amazing - and then the taste! I couldn't believe my eyes as the little ones were tucking into great heaps of the picallilli as if they were eating ice cream - my two hung back a bit until one of their cousins gave them a taste - and they were away.

We still talk about Nanna's Christmas teas that finished with a huge bowl of sago pudding steaming in the middle of the table. Now if I had put that on the table at home the boys would have turned their noses up but there in that little cottage in Wales with the twinkling of red candles and the firelight from the open grate they loved it. Everybody loved it. When we wrapped up and headed out to travel home each family had a box with a variety of pickles to take home for Christmas. Magical memories.

Not so magical when the house stinks of vinegar from October to Christmas and every jar has to be washed, labelled and topped off with a gingham hat. I enjoy it but just wish I had a little more time to enjoy it more. NOT enjoying it tonight because the dratted cranberry jelly has failed to set and two jars are supposed to be on their way tomorrow - groan.

Meanwhile we had to brave the route to Aberystwyth again yesterday to retrieve the jnr shepherd from uni for the holidays. It was snowing in the South on Friday and I went straight into panic mode as the thought of going across the A44, the mountains, the moorland to the coast with snow but checking the forecasts for this end, and that end, we were going to be just fine. They lied. A text message from Aber went along the lines of 'it may be a good idea to come sooner rather than later...we've just built a snowman' It was indeed a white knuckle ride across the high road - I was driving the truck thank goodness.

He had a little surprise for us!

'Stunned' was perhaps the understatement of the year.

But hey ho - it could have been worse - it could have been piercings of bits, it could have been tatooing of other bits - but this will grow out - well it will wont it????

Can anybody knit this boy a hat with spikes incorporated? His ears are cold - What a shame .....