Out with the old and in with the new.

A few months ago we decided that we would no longer farm cattle.  Too much work needed doing to repair the cow shed and it would have cost too much money.  Instead we decided to just stop, to sell the last cows and buy no more and then The Farmer was going to take up his other and much more preferred profession of fishing, full time.

We were going to rent our fields to other people and possibly start pulling the cow shed down.  However, that all changed with an interesting proposal.

Would we be interested in providing all the hay for a local riding stables? 

Well, yes as it happens, with grass being pretty easy to grow and the harvesting only requiring about one week of work a year, we would be very interested.

So, OK, slight change of plans.  We will keep the fields but definitely no cows.

And then they came back with another request.

Would we be interested in providing a home for the horses during the summer months as we are located closer to the riding trails than their current accommodation. 

Umm, well, yes I guess so.  They would be in the fields and wouldn’t require very much work and it would be nice to have a little extra money coming in.  Besides, most of the time they wont be here anyway, they would be off on these week long hacks that people come for.

So, a bit of a change, but still a definite improvement from stinky cows and for not much work.  Besides, wont it be nice to have horses around for Little Moo.

And then, yes, you’ve guessed it, they came back again.

Actually we aren’t getting along at all with the owner of the stables we are currently using (the same person from whom they recently bought the horse riding business). Can we move here permanently in May?

Well…we could convert the cow shed into stables, but it’s going to take some work.  But, after some consideration, yes, why not.  It would be lovely to have horses here and a pleasure to look after them.  Especially when someone is paying you to do it.

And so we set up some plans to convert everything for May and then… yes, yet again… they came back with another proposal.

Erm…would it be possible, do you think, to move the horses here sooner?  Like…err…now? We are still not getting along with the owner of the other stables and it is getting much worse.  He is endangering the horses by not feeding them properly and not taking proper care of them and we want out.

Ahh.  That could be slightly more complicated.  What with not having anywhere to put them and stuff.  

But we reached a compromise.  We can house up to five at the moment in an building that is suitable and we can start the conversion of the old cow shed straight away.  It will take a few weeks though so you’ll have to be patient with us.

And so it began 3 days ago.  We now have three lovely horses living in our yard and the serious knocking down and removing of all cow parifinalia in the cow shed has begun.

Rather exciting really.

A room of one’s own

She was right you know. You do need one.

I recently figured this out after no longer being able to find any inspiration for writing with my laptop propped up on the kitchen counter (the only place Little Moo can’t yet reach and therefore reasonably safe) and set up a little office in the spare room.

And it is a lovely room, lots of natural light, quiet, calming and it even has lock which means I can leave things out when I go to the toilet. No longer do I have to worry about packing everything away and putting it out of reach of little fingers when nature calls. Which is nice.

Unless of course you forget to lock the door.

Stupid, stupid, stupid!

I thought it had all gone rather quiet this morning.

It is, as I am sure you are aware, vitaly necessary to the creative flow to have a large family size bar of chocolate to nibble on placed next to the computer.

It was almost full.

I’d only had a couple of pieces.

Once I’d finally managed to track her down, this was all I managed to pry out of her sticky hands.

Umm… something tells me nap time is going to be long way off.

Sigh.

 

Things that piss me off.

1.  People that leave 17 (yes, seventeen) screws in their trouser pockets and then put their trousers in the washing basket.

2.  Only finding 16 screws and being completly and blissfully unaware of the 17th until the washing machine starts making a noise like a…well…like a washing machine with a screw trapped between the drum and the bit that is on the other side of the drum.

3.  Dogs that choose the day the washing machine brakes down to pee on the rug.  Buggered if I’m hand washing anything.

4.  Husbands that complain that you broke the washing machine.  It being your fault for not locating, or indeed even being aware of, the 17th screw.

5.  Husbands doing the complaining from France whilst you are freezing your butt off in -16 degrees Finland with a stinky rug and an ever decreasing number of clean clothes to dress you dirt attracting, food spilling, manically hyperactive child in.

Grrrr.

A brief hiatus

Since this book of mine is kicking my ass (but in a good way), and Christmas is fast approaching, and a thousand other excuses, I shall be taking a little time off from blogging - unless of course something amazing happens that I just have to tell you about which is more than likely to happen now that I have decided to have a break.

I wish you all a Merry Christmas and all that, and shall be back, about 5 kilos heavier, in the new year.  xxx

Shoe Time

Morning cartoons just aren’t the same if you can’t watch them in mummy’s hiking boots, you know?

 

And nothing says “I love you, daddy” more than putting his dress shoes on and shuffling around the kitchen, *

 

But, if I’m completely honest, I’m much more of a sandals girl. I really must have a word with mum about getting some nicer ones than these though.   White is just so ‘Essex girl’.

 

 

 

*Please do not be alarmed by The Farmer’s attire in this shot.  I don’t let him leave the house looking like this to go anywhere but the cow sheds.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Happy Birthday

Birthdays are funny things to celebrate when you think about it, aren’t they?  The celebration of not having died yet.

Quite odd.

Non the less, that is what I am doing today, celebrating still being alive, 28 years after being born.  Not as big an achievement as the presents and cards suggest but an acheivment all the same, I guess.

Not too many years ago many people weren’t excpected to live much older than thirty but, thanks to the wonders of the modern world we now live in, we are all now surprised and deeply upset if anyone dies before the age of seventy.

So I guess what we are celebrating today isn’t my amazing ability to keep breathing for a full 28 years and not loose too much of the red stuff that circulates through my body, but the  mirracle that is the sewage systems and water treatment plants, medicine, food refridgeration units and central heating systems.

Go modern technology!

I shall be a raising a glass or two in your honor this afternoon now that The farmers has taken his ‘disproving at drinking during the day’ stare to work and Little Moo is safely ensconced at her grandmothers house for the day.

Cheers.  To all the clever people in the world that made the prolonging of my life these 28 years possible!

Crazy, Scissor Wielding Maniac.

Yesterday I did something I have never even contemplated before.

I cut my own hair.

With the kitchen scissors*.

What prompted this insane hair butchering?  Was I pissed?  (drunk not angry).  Was I having some kind of nervous breakdown a la Britney?  Was it a temporary moment of insanity?

Well, no. I just really, really needed a hair cut.

It was just getting silly and yet I didn’t want to go to the hairdressers.  You see, I have curly hair.  For those of you without curly hair you undoubtedly wont understand, but curly hair isn’t like straight hair.  It behaves differently, it does weird things when cut, and it has an unbelievable difference in length from wet to dry.  Unless a hairdresser is used to dealing with curly hair (and permed hair is not the same) they very seldom realise this, and it can be difficult enough trying to explain it to one that speaks the same language as you do let alone trying to do it a language you have only a bare grasp of.  Plus, I am yet to see a curly haired Finn.

My chances of getting a decent cut weren’t looking good.

Which is why I decided to take matters into my own hands.

I mean, I know my own hair right?  Ok, sure, so I’ve never been to hair cutting school or whatever the hell it’s called but come on, how hard can it be?  Not that hard at all it seems.  I found a web page that told me how to do it, all I had to was gather my wet hair into a ponytail and the top of my head and then twist it tight and chop the end off.  Surprisingly easy.

But, being me, I decided that not only did I want to remove a few inches from the length and the layers I also wanted to add a fringe (bangs).  I haven’t had a fringe since I was about 10, but non the less I decided that I wanted one.  I had a look round for the type I wanted, one of those long swept to one side jobbies. Yeah, I thought, that looks easy enough.  And besides, if it’s long I can always pin it up if I don’t like it, right?

So chop, chop, chop went the scissors.

I know you’re dying to see the end result so I shan’t keep you waiting any longer.

It’s not the best picture in the world and my hair is still quite wet but I think you can see the over all effect.

 

* I did sharpen them first, I’m not that daft.

Another Chinese Toy Recalled

Can it be next week soon, please?

My mother is here.

It is always the same when she comes to visit.

I look towards her impending arrival with dread and excitement. Excitement at seeing her but dread at having to spend a whole week entertaining her. Every time she comes out or I go there I tell myself that this time I will not loose my temper with her, I will not snap at her or even let her see when she is irritating me. I only see her two or three weeks a year - how difficult can it be?

I am writing this with gritted teeth and hunched shoulders.

She had only been here 24 hours.

If we carry on at this rate I’m going to need plastic surgery to stop my neck from looking like this*.

* For those that aren’t familiar with British soap operas, this is NOT a picture of me. This is an actress from Coronation Street.

The Case of The Missing Friend

It would be a fair accusation to accuse me of being a tad wrapped up in my own world.

I always have been. Things can just pass me by and often I will barely notice unless it affects me or someone else in my world and because I am aware of this I try to make an extra special effort to look outside my world and notice what is going on but it is just that; an effort.

When the effort becomes to much or I’m not feeling well or I just don’t want to be bothered by it/ people/life then I forget it exists for a while, just like that. I simply remove it from my mind; it and all the people in it, which can make me a bit antisocial at times.

I think this is the main reason (and not because I’m so awful in RL that nobody wants to know me ;)) that I have many acquaintances but few friends, if somebody is not inside my world then they get locked out when the shutters come down. If they are still there when they come up again then great, if not then, hey ho, life goes on.

I managed out here in Finland with no real friends for three years quite happily; first as part of a newly loved up couple, then as a busy holiday rep, then a mum to be all the way through to the mother of a 6 month old at which point I looked up and realised that I didn’t have a proper friend in the whole God damned country.

Quite a scary realisation.

That was when I started cultivating my two friendships, because at this age, good friendships need a little more cultivating than just admitting which boy at school you fancy. I was doing really well, I had been attentive, funny, entertaining. We would visit each others houses, invite each other to our children’s birthday parties, bitch about our husbands and children; all the good girly bonding stuff, and then it happened again.

The shutters came down and they disappeared. I became wrapped up in my own world, visiting The Farmers Family and such like and didn’t give either of them another thought for two whole weeks.

When they came back up again one friend had vanished. When I called or texted about going to visit her she was always busy, when I went to visit anyway, she wasn’t in, I couldn’t help feeling that she was avoiding me.

I checked the calender but I hadn’t missed any of her children’s’ birthdays or other major event, I couldn’t work out what it was and was beating myself up about not getting in touch for those two weeks, not trusting her or wanting her friendship enough to include her in my little world, about being so fecking ignorant and was sure that I should just give it up and leave her alone.

I finally decided to give it one more try and if she turned me down this time I would leave her alone; after all, I didn’t want to become one of those people.

I sent her a text message (the cowards way out) and was surprised to get an instant reply, even more surprising was the message.

Yes, long time no see. Happened a lot I have moved to -name of city- with the children. Today we are busy… rest of week I am home. Welcome.

I went to see her today. It turns out that her and her husband have been having problems for a while and she finally decided to leave him. Divorce papers and custody papers are already underway and she has moved out permanently.

It just goes to show, not everything is about you.