Big boy returns from Uni

Eldest boy has given up his Uni place and come home. Has had doubts about the maths from week 2 of the course. Has not enjoyed pure maths, nor found it as interesting as he had hoped. He tried to change to another course, or add another subject to the maths, but it wasn't possible at UEA. So, was collected with all his goods and chattels last night, and is 'considering his options'. Hopefully cost of leaving won't be too bad (rent, tuition fees etc) and he is going to look for a different course to begin in September again, or find a job, whichever happens first. Every cloud has a silver lining though, and this does mean that the old man and I can go away for a bit of a holiday leaving big boy in charge of dogs, horse, house and brother....

Horse ready for new shoes, had his first outing accompanied by pups on Wednesday. Brown dog kept swinging on horse's tail, but apart from that it all went relatively well, with the dogs not straying too far from the horse, and Skipper being pack leader - now there's an alien position for him

salt mines closing today...

At last, end of season has arrived. Salt mines closing at 2pm. Still have guests in brick buildings (cottages, apartments etc) but all caravan dwellers making their merry way back to their winter homes in distant counties.

Youngest has passed his driving test (I am shuddering with fear even as I type) and obviously knows everything. Eldest seems to have forgotten how to use a telephone so can only assume University is going just fine.

Small dogs are eating the spines off all my books on the shelf they can reach, they will have reference libraries of knowledge within them if they carry on at this rate. A shed is being prepared for them outside, until we get through this toothsome, nibbly stage.

Skipper the Wonderhorse standing idle in field and chillin' as I seem to have been flat out with other stuff and haven't ridden him for 2 weeks! What a long holiday for him.... hoping next week will bring me a little spare time to devote to him. I have found time however to buy him a new field rug, pink spots on a cappuchino brown background! Everyone else truly appalled at this girly outfit, but I think its marvellous. Photo to follows.

Wot a Weekend!

Big boy collected from train station at 10.30pm Friday night. So lovely to see him. AFter work on Saturday boys prepared for Young Farmer's ball and we donned our glad rags for Round Table Area Ball at Kenwick Park. I offered to collect my boys from their event, so that they could have a beer without worrying. At 11pm our boys texted to ask if we were nearly ready. Shortly after another text asking for us to come ASAP. Thought it was a bit funny. Turned out that big boy was absolutely paralytic. Had said 'yes' to every drink he had been bought. He was 'launched' into my car by a group of burly farmers who thought it was absolutely hysterical. He got jammed between the back seat and the front seats. Within one mile he was sick everywhere. He fell out of the car onto the road whilst we tried to clean him up. On arrival at home he couldn't walk at all. He finally collapsed onto the stone kitchen floor at midnight, in an unresponsive, clammy and comatose condition. We rang an ambulance. He was admitted to our local cottage hospital, and made a good recovery by 4am. By this time he was just drunk, not comatose. Frightened me almost to death, and his younger brother, who found it all very distressing. No sleep at all. Sunday we had a big family lunch planned, and I was baking and roasting all morning. Drunkard managed half a plate-ful, disappeared to speak to the great white telephone, returned to the table looking a bit less green, and ate a few more mouthfuls before giving up. His Grandmother thought he looked very peaky and perhaps he wasn't eating well at University? We didn't grass him up, though the temptation was almost irresistable. There are some photos, which I took to be unkind, and to remind him of his condition, but he doesn't want them posted for public entertainment. He is mortified. He has never previously done such a stupid thing, and it has shocked him very much.

AFter lunch his brother drove us all to University to drop off the drunkard, and we made our weary way back home to complete our weekend finally putting our feet up at 8.30pm. Dogs not impressed, particularly as they were not allowed to lick the drunkard whilst he was prostrate, nor were they allowed to greet the ambulance service-men as they deserved.

The vomit, incidentally, covered the entire rear area of my car, a new dinner suit, a new dinner shirt, a blanket I keep in the car, my own ball gown and the kitchen floor. Sadly the drunkard was too unwell to be able to clean it all up himself, and it fell to me to wield the scrubbing brush and the bin bag.

Delighted to be back at work, and beginning to see the funny side, though I am extra-ordinarily grateful to the very kind ambulance men, and the staff at our local cottage hospital. Unbelievably my son was the only A&E customer in the early hours of Sunday morning, and he was treated with far more kindness and consideration than his condition deserved. He thanked everyone, and apologised profusely for the duration of his occupation of a hospital trolley!

Hoping day off tomorrow can be spent relaxing and 'putting it all behind me'.

Big boy has just texted to say he's still far from well. Serves him right. I thank all gods listening that it is a funny story and not a tragedy. The plonker.

dirty girls

Last night the brown girl leapt into a filthy, black and sludgy dyke. Her excellent sister stayed well away. Therefore, I had to catch stinky, filthy brown dog, lassoo her, drag her home, hose off the worst outside, then lift her into the outside sink for a full shampoo. She did not appreciate any of this. The smell was terrible and made its way onto my skin. Terrible creature. They are growing and eating, eating and growing. And biting. And chewing.

down, but not out...

Life proving a bit crinkly at the moment. Without the whole story we were TURNED DOWN at Panel for fostering last week. This simply never happens, after 10 months preparation, and endless interviews it should be a technicality. But, for us, there was a row over TVs and playstations in bedrooms, and they didn't think we were fit to be considered without MUCH more training! Incidentally, we don't do TVs in bedrooms, and the fostering panel felt very strongly that our age range of boy children (4years old to 10years old) must have these things in their room.....We now no longer wish to foster and have withdrawn our application, but after all that training and trouble it seems a bit of a shame.

Went to Sheffield (actually a beautiful place called Eyam) for dinner last night, but it has left me a bit weary at work today. Its a long way to go for a mediocre feed, but the company was excellent!

Puppies have grown tall enough to steal shoes off the counter top, and therefore we have even less un-nibbled shoes in the house than yesterday