I wasn’t looking as fit on hay day as in my heyday
THE great British weather continues to cause problems – a spell of dry coupled with some seasonal warmth would not go amiss. But other than the odd day here and there, we never get a long enough stretch to actually finish anything.
So far, we’ve made some small hay bales which will be good to take out to the moor sheep in the winter, and a lot of round bales of haylage which will feed the cows – but still there’s more grass to get if the weather will just let us.
Sheep-wise, there’s still a lot of clipping to do. At least the fleeces have been clean this year – thoroughly rinsed by the frequent deluges. It means our clippers remain sharp for longer as dirt and grit in the wool is what blunts the blades.
All the bending and stretching involved in shearing must be good for getting back in shape post-baby, but unfortunately clothing is an issue.
Nothing fits well – jeans fastened shut with baked twine and there’s still a lot of skin showing. I daresay it’s a ghastly sight but fortunately the sheep can’t talk and Clive has seen it all before.
The children help, bigger ones catching sheep, smaller ones wrapping wool. The smallest, three-week-old Nancy, just sleeps in her carrycot, lulled by the whirring of the clipping machines.
She moves back into the farmhouse prior to the health visitor’s call, by which time Clemmy has fallen and got a bump on her head and Anna’s managed to graze herself too.
We had a quick clean-up, made ourselves presentable and awaited our visitor. When the time came, Nancy weighed in nicely at just under 5lbs.
But as I sat on the sofa I noticed that there was a fair bit of scratching going on among the smaller family members. I had an overwhelming urge to scratch my head too.
Then I saw it, a creepy-crawly moving super slowly along one of my strands of loose hair. It looked like a louse of some type, and I’m blaming the sheep for the infestation.
It’s fair to say it’s been a lousy week on the farm...