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‘Need any help putting the shopping away?’

‘No, I’m good, thanks’

Four days later…

Not a supermarket shop, to be sure.

ABBA really do have some cracking songs. I just don’t think they thought ‘Ring, ring’ was going to be whistled in the context of castrating bull calves. But hey ho, most top songs can always lead you back to the farm! Two calves so far this year and both are boys and it’s a job that needs done. On a side note: predictive text wanted to change ‘boys’ to ‘joys’; ur, no, calf 2 hasn’t been a joy. His mother hasn’t made it easy but he is still alive (with many thanks to many people; not least Farmer Ian).

Now, the calf has survived his first week and was let out into the field with his mother, warm sun and space to run. But he did get the full ABBA song played to him (literally) so that he’s now a steer. Most males on our croft will have a strong dislike for ABBA’s cracker!

More like a prancing cow. A very pregnant, pacing cow who is due tomorrow. And today’s weather: a wee bit of a stiff breeze and spotted showers (aka, hold on firmly to the double buggy to stop it getting blown over and wear waterproofs, you get drenched otherwise). Why, oh why do the ‘hardy’ cows seem to pick days like today for having their calves? Visions of a cold and wet calf come to mind. Not a relaxing image to have in your mind. Particularly when you are the sole carer of a toddler and baby who are currently on their naps so this is the only chance during the day of nipping round to get jobs done. Such as checking up on a newborn calf. But no, she just keeps prancing back and forth.

So just hold on Luv, tomorrow’s forecast is much better…

As I went down to the byre for hay,

Studying the snowfall on that fateful day

And what do I find, looking around

Good lord, not a good day

O Lugs, you calm down,

You calm down, bafooning clown.

O Lugs, don’t go down

Down to the field to play

As you take off through the gap to play

Studying the calves, giving off a good display

And who will get you back inside

Good lord, show me the way

O Lugs, you come back

Let’s get you back, give some slack

O Lugs, time to back track

Get you back to the old hay rack

O Lugs, do what I say,

Leave the cows, go on, get away

O Lugs, you will pay,

You will pay with your own fateful day

And in answer to the new lyrics, yes, Lugs is back inside (I never knew cattle could squeeze through smallish gaps). See, with the Ren-gate scandal and Hilda being due last week, I turfed both her and Breena into the field as the Crofter was away. No calf appeared. Great, Renoir must not have been successful on his gate hoping day and she’ll be due with the rest. So, decision was made to stick them both back into the warmth and dryness of the byre. Wrong! A near riot broke out. Lugs took off like a bucking bronco once he got through the gap. So with that the two soon-to-be mothers were given back their field. And who knows if she is really late or really early, but Hilda’s calf arrived today.

In my car, I’ll be the driver. Or so it is according to Twain. But I don’t think Shania lives on a croft and writes her songs in regard to preparing tea with supervision from a toddler and a baby not sleeping. But when you realise 30 mins before tea that your kale is still in the veg plot, the carrots are still in the raised bed, and you have two hungry boys to try and feed, what do you do? You take the quickest and safest route (really, believe me; it honestly is the safest solution when you don’t have enough bubble wrap, any baby monitor or prison cells for a two year old).

Answer for the kale collection? Two boys bundled into a pick up, driven the short distance to the veg garden, and then left in while I nip out to cut kale while humming something more attuned to a Christmas Carol than Shania Twain due to swirling snow (or if I was a newspaper journalist, a battling blizzard).

And yes, while doing that I had a Minj Crofter/wannabe world’s quickest button pusher/driver. Picture F1 pit stops, but the guys need to learn to collect a bowl of kale and nothing to do with wheel changing. Because for me, speed is of the essence. Not to do with the value of the veg, or the raging snow storm (hello snowflake Stanley), but because, the longer you are gone the more buttons have been utilised. Air conditioning at full blast, radio on maximum volume, hyperventilating wiper blades, oh, and don’t forget the hazard lights are on. Grand, just grand. Restore calm before explaining that all buttons are for the driver; because, in my car, I’ll be the driver!