Let Sleeping Dogs Lie

I'm feeling much better after a fairly quiet weekend. I must tell you, though, that Mr O's grasp of what a lay-in means is baffling. He wakes up at 6.50am and immediately starts talking to me. This goes on until 7.30, when he declares that I've had a lay-in and now it's time to get up! I really don't understand it. If anyone asks me what I'd like for my birthday, I'll say, 'A lay-in.'
I have to confess that 'Er Indoors has been coming up to bed with us since before Christmas, as it was far too cold in the kitchen when it was snowing, to let her sleep down there on her own. She doesn't sleep on the bed, she sleeps on the floor at my side. This is fine unless she wakes up in the middle of the night and insists that I stroke her. I just put my arm out of the bed and leave her to get on with it.
The only thing is that she sleeps between me and the bathroom door. This means if I need to use said room in the middle of the night, I have to put my feet out of bed and try to find her with my toes, so I don't tread on her. Last night I made it safely to the door, when she decided to lick me on the back of the leg. I jumped several feet and nearly crashed into the basin. Well done, dear.
Then I come back and do a sort of karate roll to get back into bed without treading on her again. Sometimes my lack of stealth wakes Mr O up and he asks what on earth I'm doing. By the time I've finished explaining he's usually fallen back to sleep.
I have lunged Barnaby on Friday and rode him yesterday and today, but I have come to an important conclusion. Basically, for some reason I don't quite understand, Barnaby can't do dressage. To be fair, Mr O did tell me this when I took him on, but I decided to find out for myself. If you've been reading this blog for a while, you will know that I even got an instructor in to school him, and even she didn't really make any difference. I don't know how to explain why he can't do it, because sometimes he even comes on the bit, but he walks or trots round with his head facing the outside and I cannot get him to bring it in. It is bizaare. He doesn't do that going up and down the road. He can look from side to side, but doesn't go along with his head strained to the left, but that's what he does in the school.
This puts me off jumping him, because it makes him feel very unbalanced. If he's bad in trot he's going to be worse in canter, but if I can get him to stop rushing I'll be satisfied. I think he could jump well in a field, because it's a big space, but he's not very good in an arena. We'll see. Either way, we were supposed to do some dressage next Sunday, but I'm going to withdraw. I really don't see the point of travelling all the way there for a judge to tell me something I know already. I am still going to school him as I'd like to do some showing this year, but I need to put the work in. Watch this space.

Woe Is Me (and Tessa Too!)

It's official then, I have the dreaded lurgy. It was only a matter of time, really, as Seven had it last week, then Missis caught it and now I have it. So far, Mr O has not succumbed, for which I am grateful, as today was the day of 'Er Indoors having her op.
Last night she woke me up with her continual whining. It was three o'clock. In the end I got up and went downstairs, desperate for a Strepsil, and her desperate for a call of nature. I stood there, in me nightie, hopping from one bare foot to the other, while she nipped out in the wind and the rain... for ten minutes. I'm not kidding. I kept calling her in whispers that gradually got more and more hoarse, as I couldn't shout and risk waking Mr O up. She came back in when she felt ready, soaking wet and with her tail at a jaunty angle. I am feeling a little hoarse this morning as a result.
Of course, we've woken up really early and moved about at Mr O speed in order to get to the vets, so we could be really early and sit in the car park for twenty minutes. No, I don't understand it either. We were seen quite quickly though, and to my shock they said Tessa would have a general anaesthetic and that we could go away and come back at 2pm to pick her up. Oh dear. I never expected to leave her, and she certainly didn't expect to be parted from us, poor girl. She was scrabbling along the floor as they firmly shut the door on us.
So we went to Tesco and consoled ourselves with a hearty Full English. There was a sign on the door saying, 'Loose Peppers.' Really, I don't think the morals of their vegetables are any concern of mine.
I love the sign in the loos. It states that because they're being environmentally friendly you don't have to touch the taps to obtain your ration of hand washing water. It doesn't point out that they're open twenty-four hours a day and that their underground carpark is lit up like a Christmas tree. Funny, that.
I am so glad Mr O has been at home today, though, as I've come home and slept intermittently, followed by a bout of coughing and dramatic swallowing, which hurts like nothing on earth, followed by more sleeping. I feel like I need jelly and icecream to keep me going, no scratchy foods whatsoever. It has been thick with fog outside all day, (matching the fog in my head) which doesn't really matter, as I couldn't ride today if you paid me.
We drove back to the vets at 2pm. I'm not sure who was the more pleased to see whom, as Tessa went hysterical when she saw us and flung herself into Mr O's arms. I'm not sure what knocked him back the most, Tessa's effusive greeting, or the size of the bill. She soon fell asleep in the car, though. She is coughing because she's been tubed and has an enormous shaved patch on her back where the cyst was, and quite a big slice (considering how small the cyst was) and some huge stitches, which she is not to touch under any circumstances. She is allowed some fish or chicken with rice for dinner, which funnily enough, is exactly what I'll be having...
Tomorrow will be a day of cuddling up on the sofa together, with a hot water bottle and a blanket. (Me and Tessa, I mean, obviously, Mr O will be back at work). There's nothing like the warmth of a dog to cuddle up to when you're feeling poorly - even if she does snore more loudly than I do.
Hope everyone else is okay and not coming down with these rude and inconsiderate germs.
Mrs O.
p.s. I have seen the photos of Barnaby from yesterday's ride, and he is looking a little porky if you ask me! 'Summering well,' is an understatement. Maybe standing side by side with The Galloping Gourmet wasn't such a good idea.

A Busy Weekend

Well, this weekend has been incredibly busy. We've hardly been in the house.

On Saturday we took 'Er Indoors to have her annual vaccination booster. It's open surgery on a Saturday morning, so you just come and register and take your place in the waiting room until you're called. 'Er Indoors hates the vet. It stems from the one and only time we put her in kennels and she had to have the kennel cough jab, which actually isn't an injection, it's puffed up the dog's nose. She absolutely hated it and has never wanted to go to the vets since.

We waited ages to be seen. We couldn't help hearing the receptionist's conversations on the phone. At one point she said, "Yes, Mrs De Ville, that would be fine. Certainly Mrs De Ville, just bring them in on Thursday, that's no problem." Mr O and I looked at each other and shuddered.

Finally, it was our turn to be seen. Mr O put 'Er Indoors on the examining table. 'Er Indoors took a flying leap off it. Mr O hoisted her back up and held on for all he was worth. (I knew all that playing rugby for the navy would come in handy one day). The vet examined her all over. She said, "She's carrying a little weight." I thought, 'Blimey, you should see my horse.' 'Er Indoors hardly even noticed the actual injection. All done for another year.

We dropped 'Er back home, then went off to do the more exciting thing we'd planned - to go and see the film 'Inception' with Leonardo DiCaprio. We've seen the trailer and really wanted to go and see it. It is extremely good, but slightly surreal (all 2hrs and 28 mins of it). I do think Leo has honed himself as an actor, and his recent films have shown his impressive maturity, but more than that, there aren't many men who look as spellbindingly gorgeous as he does in a well cut suit. That's all I have to say about that (before I incriminate myself in any way!)

The film is slightly 'The Matrix' in style, but much better and very clever. I was a bit confused half way through, but really enjoyed it. I came out into the daylight, blinking, not sure if this was a dream, or if this was reality...

And so to Sunday, which was hectic, to say the least. First stop was church, for a family service, which was lovely.

Then up to Worksop

to celebrate

this young lady's third birthday.

The thought first struck me at the wedding, but came back to me more strongly today: I wonder if this little girl has any idea how many people love her? Parents, aunts, uncles, friends, grandparents, everybody adores her, nobody bears her the slightest malice. Do you know, at that age, that you are adored? I wonder.

Then we drove to near Nottingham, to drop Son 1 at home (At this stage you may be wondering just how large my family is!)

And then, as arranged, we drove to the yard of Max's new owner, to go and see the boy himself. As soon as we pulled into the driveway, Mr O and I recognised the place. The woman who'd bought my old mare Penny from me years ago, also liveried here. How strange. I sell all my old horses to the same yard!

We drove past grazing fields, and there he was. I'd recognise him anywhere. His new owner went and got him and he came poddling up. Of course, he hasn't changed a bit. She tacked him up and rode him. He did look sweet, but small, now I've got used to Barnaby's bulk ('summering well' is an understatement!) and very hairy, considering they've clipped a lot of his leg hair off. He seemed very well in himself, and not the slightest bit interested in me until I produced an apple at the end. I am glad he is well and happy. I have to say, I never went to visit Crispin in his new home, when I sold him, because I knew I would sob and want to take him back with me, but I knew if I saw Max I would be all right. I knew I had Barnaby to rush home to, and I'm glad to say he more than makes up for my loss, which is good, isn't it? It made me realise how far I've come with The Bardy Lad and that he is the horse I've truly been waiting all my life for.

And so today I am going to relax and enjoy sitting here, reaquainting myself with the four walls I've hardly seen all weekend!

Have a good week, everyone.

Mrs O.

Revenge!

And so Tessington Bear (for 'twas her name) decided that she would come with us and supervise us while we poo-picked the field. And in her supervisory role she decided she should drop a shoulder and roll in something unspeakable.

So, being a caring owner (and frankly appalled at the smell) I decided today was the day to get my own back.

Tessa's suspicions were first aroused when this much loved old item was dragged out of the barn.

Water was added.

And then, to her horror, but not total surprise, 'Er Indoors, was lifted bodily into the bath, and the shampooing commenced. I dared not let go of her collar for a single moment, for fear that she'd be off, rolling in the nearest patch of mud.

Because she is half collie, half springer spaniel, her coat is virtually waterproof, and it takes ages to get her wet to the skin. It was a challenge I was more than willing to accept.

We are the best of friends now, me because she smells beautiful, and her because I gave her a treat afterwards.

But, roll in the field again girl, and see what happens!

Pet Names

I was wondering today, why all my pets have more than one name.


This is Purdy, also known as Perdita (it's Greek for 'the lost one').



But she is also known as Purdy Bird, Purdy Kitten, Peebles and PB. We had a little black and white kitten just before her, but she died of gastroenteritis. I was devastated. Lisa was working in a nursing home at the time and rang one day in some distress as a cat had abandoned its kitten on her doorstep and the RSPCA were coming to take it away, unless we gave it a home, and would dad have it? As I was the one who would be feeding it and emptying the litter tray, I felt her concern was floating in the wrong direction, but still, I said yes.
So this is what popped it's tiny head out of the box, and I burst into tears. It was love at first sight.




A few days later, she went into 'failure-to-thrive mode' and began to fade away before my very eyes. I couldn't bear to lose another one so soon. I got hold of her by the scruff of the neck, looked her in the eye and shouted, "You will NOT die!" She looked at me with a startled expression and decided to live, there and then. She was nine at Christmas. She is my stalker. She sits on my shoulder and licks my neck (yuk!) She is a stunted cat, and has always been tiny. But she has a big personality, and has held her own with the three farm cats here.


This is Tigger:




aka 'Tigger Angel', 'Tig-Pog', 'Tiggings'. He comes to any of these names. He is full of gingerness. He was a feral cat, caught in a net in a field at Gringley-on-the-Hill. We got him at 14 weeks old, as a birthday present for Abby. On his first night in our house, he leapt out of his cardboard box and ran into the corner, under the coffee table. It was pure instinct, but I picked him up, and put him on my lap. He ran back to his safe place under the coffee table. I picked him up. He ran off. I picked him up, laid down on the sofa, and he crawled up to me and laid down with his back under my chin and went to sleep. He stayed there all night, and has been 'my cat' ever since. He is frightened of everybody else, except Mr O. He comes into the stables each morning and says, "Hello!" in a loud, clear voice. He is nine, too.


And finally, as you know, this is Tessa:


I bought her for me. When she was six months old, she woke up one morning and decided she loved Daddy best, and has never wavered. Her faithfulness is an example to us all.
One day Mr O coined the title 'Tessington Bear' for her, and it stuck. (We live quite near a place called The Tissington Trail now, and are much amused.)
She is now mostly known as Bear, or Mrs Brown, and also comes when you call her, using any of these names. In the old days, we used to do Agility and Flyball, but she prefers the quiet life now. She is very good friends with Tigger and Purdy and is far too well mannered to chase the chickens. She is also nine. It must have been a year for obtaining pets.


Do your animals have multiple aliases?

Spike The Cat

It has poured with rain all day today. Missis kept her horses in. Barnaby looked at me as if to say, "Don't even go there," so I turned my boys out. Zak and Max were joshing each other as they ran up the field side by side. Then they both stopped suddenly, saying, 'Where the heck's Barnaby?' He was behind them, scoffing as much haylage as possible before anyone noticed. By ten o'clock, Barnaby was looking over the gate, saying, "For goodness sake woman, when are we coming in?"
Yesterday I accidentally trod on Tessa's foot as she was behind me when I came out of the stables backwards, pulling a full-up wheelbarrow. She lay on the sofa with me later on, and was struggling to get up, pawing away on the leather, until I realised I was laying on her tail and trapping her.
Today I was mucking Barnaby out, shoved the fork in and poked it straight into Tab, (cat) who had sneaked in and buried herself without me knowing. She ran off, but wasn't yelping. We managed to catch up with her and feel her all over, and fortunately she wasn't wounded. I felt terrible, I adore this cat. I did go and find her later and apologised profusely.
Then later I fed Climb (Tab's sister) stepped backwards and trod on her paw. What is the matter with me? The chickens see me and squawk, "Run for your lives!" and dash off in the opposite direction. Can't think why.
I've done all of Mr O's ironing. It took me an hour and a half. By the time I'd finished I didn't have the strength to do mine. It's amazing what you can decide doesn't need ironing when you put your mind to it.
I've finally had time to make a sponge cake with my new rubber tins (!) Lorayne said not to forget to increase my quantities, and she's right. I normally do what we call 6, 6 and 3 ie. six ounces of flour, sugar and butter, with three eggs. I increased it to 8, 8 and 4, but it still only just filled the tin. I'm going to have to go to 10, 10 and 5 next time. That's nearly half a dozen eggs in one cake! It made a lovely sponge, though, but cooked much more quickly than normal. I was lucky to catch it before it burned, as usually I can just put my timer on and leave it, but I could smell it was ready. I didn't have to grease or line the tins either, and when I turned them upside down, the cakes just fell out. Amazing. I put jam in the middle and dusted the top with icing sugar and it's gone down a treat.
Aren't a lot of blogs utterly beautiful? I have just found one called Marmalade Rose where she has invited people to commit to twenty minutes of crafting every day for a year. Pop over there when you get time, it's a lovely blog. I have joined the 'Twenty Minuters'. If you have ever watched Black Adder Goes Forth, you'll know why the title makes me laugh. I shall tuck myself away amongst the truly talented and hope nobody notices me. But at least it's a start, isn't it? I don't need much motivation actually, I am finding it totally addictive. You know I am doing a little bear which will be made up into a valentine's card for Mr O? I sit here sewing it secretly in the afternoons, and can hear Mr O pull up in the car. But there's time for a few more stitches before he walks in. Two more stitches. I can't put it down. Tessa stands up, stretches and walks over to the back door, wagging her tail. One more stitch. The back door opens. I shove the cross stitch back into my little tin, slam the lid on and walk slowly, slowly into the kitchen. "Hello darling, how was your day?"

Busy Days

I am thoroughly enjoying the site of the emerging earth. I could get down and kiss it quite frankly. I feel as if we've been through a tremendous ordeal and survived, although more snow is apparently forecast on Wednesday, but we'll cross that bridge when we come to it.
We went to the shop to see if I could get this month's edition of Cardmaking magazine, but it wasn't there. I was nearly lured into buying a cross stitch magazine instead, but resisted. Then we went down this alleyway as a shortcut, and there on the right was a craft shop. Why have I never noticed it before?
I went in and got chatting to the nicest woman ever. I asked her loads of questions, and she was absolutely brilliant, and explained so many things, including how to do decoupage, which I really want to do. I have come away with a box to store my embroidery threads in, as I am doing a little unicorn with a white body and silver grey mane. It's extremely difficult to tell the two threads apart, especially when you've used a few and only have a couple left. This box lets you separate each colour out and wind it onto a bobbin, which I did when I got home. It's made me wonder if Lisa's got one, as I could pick one up as a present for her. It must be next week we are getting together to go to Hobbycraft.
I also bought some stickers relating to a Christening, which is brilliant, as I've been able to find lots of 'New Baby' stuff, but no actual Christening things, so I can get on and make the card soon. I am getting a massive urge to make a card, so I probably will one day this week.
I bought some more wild bird seed, but they're not eating it half as quickly as the Bill Oddie stuff with the mealworms in it. Whoever thought robins would be so discerning? I have had a jackdaw at the table. I just caught sight of him as he launched off. It was like a Harrier Jump Jet taking off. The other birds looked a bit windswept, to say the least.
We went to Pop's Attic, looking for a welsh dresser. I am dying to get one, now Mr O has said yes. I used to have one years ago, and for some inexplicable reason, I gave it to Lisa. Why? Why? I'll be able to store so much stuff on it. I don't know if I can justify a brand new one, but one never knows, does one?!
We went to see Abby and the Flower Fairy. Abby looks a lot better, but you can see she is still in pain, poor thing. She isn't supposed to do anything for ages. We took the Winnie the Pooh DVD's Missis has given us, that Seven and Nine have grown out of. She didn't know which one to watch first.
I let Tessa out last thing while making a cup of tea for us both, and took it up to bed. I got in bed and started reading my book. After a while we heard a distant bark and wondered where it was coming from. Then I realised I'd forgotten all about Tessa and left her outside! Oops. She looked a bit miffed actually. Sorry dear.
And so this morning, Mr O rode Barnaby while I tacked Zak up, then he came back and rode him as well. He was all done for 9.30! He said Barnaby spooked at piles of snow on the floor (like they haven't spent the last few weeks looking at nothing but snow!) and the dog came out of Flag House and chased him up the road. Barnaby turned round and explained to the dog in no uncertain terms that he could 'go home!' I am so glad I didn't ride Max, he'd have had a fit. I am going to walk him down to the school on Wednesday and ride him in there to see how stupid he's feeling before we do anything too ambitious.
We went to church, which was brilliant as usual. You never know what's going to happen there, I think that's part of the attraction. We have Communion every week. And they read from The Message quite a bit and it sounds very good, I might see if I can get a copy.
We came home and mucked out on what felt like a spring day. I am glad we put the horses out in their mediumweight rugs instead of their heavyweights, they'd have been sweating.
Soon it was time to take Seven and Nine to the cinema. It was Seven's birthday on Friday. I gave him his card, the first one I've made myself that I've dared to send to someone outside the family, and Missis said it was excellent, which made my day. As Seven's birthday is so near Christmas, rather than buy more toys, I said I'd take them to watch Alvin and the Chipmunks - The Squeaquel, which they've been dying to see. Mr O had a good look to see if there was anything he could go and watch (anything at all???) but there wasn't, so he had to sit through it, too! Actually it was very sweet and quite funny. I want a chipmunk of my very own.
We took the boys to MacDonalds afterwards and bought them a Happy Meal, which happened to have a chipmunk in it, then brought them home. Quite a good evening really, and the first time they've been out with the two of us. They must be quite tired as they had tennis and drama in the morning, and Seven's actual party yesterday afternoon, but at least it gave Missis a chance to get some work done.
She is away for the next two days, so I've got all six horses to do and will presumably have the boys after school as well, so I hope I'll manage to get some crafting done. I am only doing the unicorn while Mr O is home as I am really doing a secret valentine cross stitch for him, but can't do it in front of him, can I? Quite frustrating.

Wrens

My first two days back at work have been very hectic. We had more snow on Sunday night, and it has snowed all day today. I was woken at 4am Monday because all I could hear in my half sleep was a horse banging the walls. I was so disturbed by this I woke up fully and went to investigate. Max got cast last year and I never heard a thing, so I have been very conscious of noises out there ever since.
I flicked on the light, and every horse rose to his feet (I can't apologise enough), but Lindy seemed to be struggling. I think he'd either got cast again, or he is rubbing his rug on the walls, trying to rip it off, as he is too hot, and he was certainly sweating. I swapped his rug for Max's under rug, as it's big enough to fit him (it was bought for Zak originally) as it's very thin (like Zak!). I kept the neck down. There were no more noises after that, so I think he was fine, and in the morning he felt 'right', not sweated up, but not cold either. It's worse than having kids. At least they can tell you they've got a sore throat, you can give them some Calpol and keep them off school for the day. The trouble is, we didn't clip Lindy last time he was due, because of the bad weather, then he went lame, so most of his woolly coat has grown back, and he is far too warm in a stable rug. This is a bit bizarre when it's -6 outside, but who am I to judge?
I crept back in, so as not to wake Mr O, and climbed in between the sheets, and dozed off into the most wonderful slumber, only to be woken at seven by the rooster alarm clock going off. For some reason I thought it was a Sargeant Major shouting at me, "Ten HUT! Stand by your beds!" and leapt up in horror to locate the clock and switch it off, no easy task in the dark. I was a gibbering wreck by the time I'd done it.
I am wearing wooly gloves to muck out in, as the handles of the wheelbarrow are so cold I can't carry it with bare hands. Eventually, of course, the gloves get cold and wet, and I have to take them off and find another pair. I keep scraping snow off the dustbin and the garden table, so I can put bird food out. I am worried about birds and animals dehydrating, and so I keep leaving little dishes of water around the place, but they soon freeze over. The robins (and BFMB) have been joined on the bird table by a blue tit, my favourite little bird. He looks very smart with his black collar and tie, a veritable Beau Brummel in fact, and has soon got the measure of BFMB. He sneaks up behind her, grabs a morsel and flies off again, before she even has a chance to lumber round.
Needless to say, now that everyone has gone back to work, the outside tap is frozen solid. I've had to fill water buckets from our kitchen sink and carry them through the garage to the stables. I've filled each horse's water bucket in the morning and then had to top it up again at night, so that's 36 water buckets altogether. I'm putting hay out in the field for Max, Barnaby and Zak, and making up haynets for Polo, Lindy and Fudge, who are staying in.
I nipped in to go to the loo, and as I came out, a shadow swept past my face. At first I thought it was a bat, but watched where it landed, and as it took off from my wardrobe, I realised with astonishment, it was a wren. I was momentarily flummoxed. It's not often a member of the Senior Service decides to share a bedroom with you, is it? My instinct was to try to catch it, but then I realised that if I opened the bedroom windows she would eventually fly out, which she did, being a bright girl.
I sent a text to Mr O saying, "There is wren in the bedroom." He is ex-Navy, remember. He quickly text back, "Get her to do the ironing." which is probably the cleanest comment he could think of at such short notice.
When I went back up at lunch time, there was another one. What on earth is going on? How do they get in? I hadn't even had the back door open, and had certainly not seen anything fly past me or through the kitchen or anything. Very, very peculiar.
I finished mucking Polo and Lindy out, and my next stable was due to be Fudge's, but my work was hampered because:








I decided to leave him in peace and move onto Max's stable instead.
I went out to meet Six and Nine from the bus at four o'clock. I was still standing there at twenty past. Lucy Goosie pulled up in her 4x4 and asked if I wanted her to go down and get the boys. Pongo had text me to say they would be on the bus, and no one had rung to say the situation had changed, and the next thing I knew, the school bus drew up behind Lucy Goosie's car. What a relief!
I started taking the Christmas decorations down, and blitzed the kitchen, but I have to be careful not to use up every ounce of energy on a Monday, otherwise I have nothing left for Tuesday, even if I go to bed early.
And today it has done nothing but snow. This is the first time the horses haven't wanted to go out. Correction - they wanted to go out, but as soon as they saw the weather, they wanted to come back in again.
Mr O went to work before the snow started and text me to ask what the weather was like here. I didn't know whether he meant he was going to stay in Worksop or try to come home, but they finished work at 4.30pm so people had more time to travel safely, thank goodness. Yes I want him to come home, but not at risk of his safety. But I knew if the old car could make it, this new car definitely could.
The boys went to school on the bus, but within minutes of their arrival Pongo got a text saying the school was closing. How stupid. So Pongo set off on foot to go and collect them. I am so glad he hadn't left for work, otherwise it would have been me sliding down the hill and hauling two children back up it through the snow.
It seems to have taken me forever to muck out today. I guess I've just got used to three of us doing it over Christmas. It doesn't help that the chickens are starting to prefer the stables to the barn, where their coop is, and can find loads of places to hide in the stables. I spent twenty minutes tonight trying to coax them out, sweet talk them out, bribe them out and sweep them out with a broom, all to no avail. They looked at me with their beady eyes as if to say, "You've got no chance, love." They were flying from stable to stable, as they know I can't reach them in there, until I finally resorted to rugby tactics, pinned them down one by one, scooped them up, tucked their wings in and carried them across to the coop and plopped them in. And of course, by the time I'd got the third bird over there, the first two had come back out. They were probably highly amused watching me run round like a headless chicken for a change. I was exhausted by the time I got indoors.
I am supposed to put in a Tesco order, but I've been very busy, and I seriously doubt they'll deliver in this weather. I'd better go on their website and check. The lovely girl at Stable Mates delivered the horse feed yesterday, so they'll not starve. I have powdered milk, and enough flour to keep us going with bread, so we won't go hungry either.
So while I'm typing this, Mr O has gone up to bed, and called down to me, "Do I have to share the bedroom with her, then?" and I've gone up to see a wren flying round the room again. I've realised it must be the same wren that's found a way in, but where? We don't open the windows because it's too flipping cold. Has she got a nest somewhere? She is not going to nest on my ironing pile, that's for sure.
And finally, I let Tessa out last thing at night, thinking she'll be two minutes, and she takes herself off for a little tour of the farm, which seems to be getting longer and longer each night. Our garden gate is always left open, so she strolls out in the moonlight for a while. Where does she go? What does she do? I ought to follow her tracks in the snow to find out. I suppose if you're mistress of all you survey, you can go where you like with impunity, can't you?