Putting The Boot In

I've had a phenomenally busy few days. In case you're wondering, we managed to do the deed on Sunday morning. It wasn't pleasant. At first I thought I was going to be sick, but after a couple of minutes it just seemed like biology in school. The method prescribed wasn't entirely successful, and Mr O thinks he might do it slightly differently next time, but by six o'clock we had our first chicken in the oven. I watched Macbeth Sunday evening. Never have Lady Macbeth and I had so much in common.
To be fair, I plucked my first pheasant when I was seven and have never disliked it. We had a friend in Worksop that shoots and used to give us birds nearly every week. We became very proficient at plucking and drawing, but I have never actually dispatched the bird myself.
Grace has walked around for the last couple of days feeling a bit out of sorts, missing her three brothers. At first she went around with Peggy and her six babies, but I noticed today she is with Roxy and Margery, the grown up chickens. She has obviously decided it's time to learn how to be a lady hen after all.
You may have heard of a brand of welly boots called Hunters. They are the Rolls Royce of wellington boots. I have had mine for some years, and the pair before that I had for fifteen years. But recently they've developed a hole in the sole which lets water in. This is not nice, especially if you're walking in a muddy field. I have had the experience, at our previous yard, of getting totally stuck and my foot flying out and landing in the mud, sock and all. It was freezing cold and I could feel the mud oozing between my toes. Unfortunately Mr O was there to witness this and laughed like a drain. I had to pull the boot out and limp back to the yard as there was no way I could put my foot back in the boot after that.
Anyway, back to said hole in footwear. About six weeks ago I went to Tesco (after much sole searching!) and bought a very sweet pair of pink stripy wellies. I returned home with high expectations and a dash of rural femininity.
Obviously I wear wellies seven days a week. Imagine my surprise this morning when I put Barnaby into the field and felt a sudden cold sensation on the back of my leg. I had waterproof trousers on, too, so couldn't understand it. I got back to the stables, examined the boots, and to my dismay found a split right up the back of the left boot. Disaster!
For the rest of the day I had to wear my Hunters with the hole in and came in at lunch time with one black sock - yuk!
In the meantime I'd phoned Mr O to explain the situation. He said he'd go to CWG, our local farm shop and see what they had. I sat in fear and dread that he would bring me some very masculine boots with a steel toecap, or even worse, a pair of white wellies that he's bought for one of the lads at work this week (I'd rather drink wasp spit than wear a pair like that).
So imagine my surprise when he walked in and produced a huge box, out of which appeared the most gorgeous pair of wellies I've seen in some years. They are made by Aigle (French) and fit beautifully. They look very well made, too, which they'll need to be. Some wellies are made for walking the dog in the park, and some are made for wading through mud, aren't they? Clearly these are in the latter catagory, and I hope I get many years wear out of them.
I actually rode Barnaby on Sunday afternoon, which was wonderful. Very much business as usual after two weeks of snow. Now unfortunately we are forecast snow again on Thursday. We are supposed to be going to a party that night. Pleeeeese don't let it snow. I am wearing a very thin dress and high heels - possibly another side-splitting moment for Mr O, then?