Why is it some days my plans are totally thwarted? I had planned to chuck Barnaby and Zak out, move Max into Barnaby's stable, muck two horses out and then go to church. But Mr O decided to clip Barnaby. As I've mentioned before, you can clip any part of Max and he is fine, but the moment you go to clip the long hair off his legs, he goes berserk. Barnaby isn't usually like this, but he's not keen on having his legs done. Mr O was quite frustrated because this new set of clipper blades aren't very sharp, so it took longer than it should have done, then when it came to doing Barnaby's legs, he started throwing himself around all over the place, rearing and barging into his dad. I was holding onto the leadrope and his headcollar, from outside the stable, and had to hang on for dear life. Not my favourite occupation. So by the time we finished it was too late to go to church.
I wasn't happy, but decided to make the best of it. I could at least catch up on laundry. We were going to go for a big ride round Holymoorside after lunch, but as I was washing the horses' feed bowls out, the water started to go slower and slower, until it reached a trickle, and finally stopped. I went indoors to try the tap. There was a little trickle, and then nothing. Oh dear.
Our water doesn't come off the mains, it comes off a pump in a farmer's field just up the road (the one before Jolly Farmer, in fact). This is a truly archaic situation, and I don't fully understand it myself (ie who's in charge of it, who do Pongo and Missis pay their water bill to?) I couldn't do any laundry as there was no water to work the washing machine. Grrr!
So the ride was abandoned as we collected up every water cannister we could find and Pongo and Missis drove to Missis' mum's house, in the horse box, to go and fill them up. They came back with nine filled cannisters and a huge old milk churn also full of water. Goodness knows how they got that in and out of the lorry, as it weighs a tonne.
So this morning I have had the joyful task of mucking out, and filling the horse's water buckets from these cannisters, that I can hardly lift, and that slip out of your hands as you're pouring them. I have a friend who is a missionary in India who complains about the lack of facilities. There's no need to go all the way to India, love, a weekend in Derbyshire can be very similar. The irony of the fact that it's pouring with rain is not lost on me either. Water is pouring off the hills, it just isn't pouring out of my tap.
I sat last night and made a set of Christmas cards. I am thrilled with them as my first attempt. There are magazines and websites that tell you how to make these things, so I am going on a quest to find out as many ideas as I can. although another forage in town yesterday yielded gold ribbon, more stick-ons, and a set of Christmas papers, so I have been scrapbooking as well, and framing the results. I am very impressed, even if I do say so myself. Now all I need is some mistletoe, holly, which grows on the farm, so I just need to go and gather some, and a couple of poinsettias, and I'll be happy. I got some scented tealights to go in the little holders, so that's done, and we bought Steve and Peter's presents yesterday. My main task this week is to get Lorayne's parcel wrapped and posted. I feel I am on top of things. If life gives you lemons...
I am tackling the first cross stitch I bought, but I seem to end up doing it quite late at night, and squinting as the holes are so tiny, but I am getting there. There more you do it the better you get at it I think. It's good fun, anyway. So by the time I've made some cards, done some sewing, read a bit of something in German and had dinner, it's time to go to bed. We have resorted to getting the electric blanket out. At least the electricity is still working...
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