DEAR DIARY

MONDAY: Poor old Peppie has done his maths and has just asked me where two of his things have gone. The gender realignment surgery went very well except that he was not allowed to run for a week. We had only been home and hour or so when he saw a rabbit and that was the end of the ‘no running’ rule,

Having no longer use for his Cricket Box he wants me to advertise it on eBay and has also realised he has saved a lot of time washing and tending to them and he does have a nice new purse in which to carry his loose change.

TUESDAY: The rain has caused the grass to grow at such a rate that I have had to invest in yet another ride-on mower to blow-up. The last one got itself buggered driving into unexpected holes but I cut off its mower section and now use it like a very slow Dune Buggy around the property. Both of course were second hand and in my case it seemed to be a case of ‘Seller Beware’.

In Oklahoma and Happy Valium the grass is as high as a big goats eye. All I could see today was their backs floating along the horizon like clouds followed closely by the Alpacas appearing above the field heads held high like Loch Ness Monsters.

WEDNESDAY: It’s now the day before tomorrow and all through my house I’ve been searching for hours for one bloody mouse.

Yes the mouse plague has hit us yet again, at least at my place. Oh! The beauty of country life. Everybody else has been getting rid of them, but of course being a hoarder my 20ft Container has been filling up with fat Mickey’s indulging on rapidly depleting feed bins. Maybe I should have purchased a container twice the size to allow for my ever-expanding collection of de-motorised garden implements and homeless rodents.

THURSDAY: A neighbour suggested I really need to talk to an expert about the problems and gave me the name of a good Psychiatrist.

FRIDAY: Oh! Yes indeed the beauty of country life. People in the big smoke may wax lyrical about the neighbourhood in which they live but grey concrete has never appealed to my vibrant reds and blacks. The happy vista of grey skies blending with the city scenery and the even greyer city-folk around me would make me want to Paraglide from the tallest balcony without the ’Para’

Thank whatever deity you worship that I don’t have to rely on elevators beyond the ones that add an inch or two to my height.

The very thought of spending ten minutes rising and falling vertically in a coffin rather than horizontally on foot to my front gate and back for my mail is too tortuous to contemplate. What would I do if I couldn't smell horse shit, tread in goat droppings or watch Peppie crap on our daily ramble around the carport.

I was once asked during an assessment if I ever considered disposing of my soul prematurely after telling them of this contemplation. I replied ‘not before two things have happened’ and then went on to say ‘I’m out of this bloody office and I’ve spent all my superannuation’. Then as a final word I added that ‘anyone seriously contemplating an enforced taking of their last breath would not be stupid enough to tell anyone anyway.

SATURDAY: A nurse at St.John of God, exclaimed when seeing my weight on her doubtfully accurate machine that maybe I should get out and exercise more. Why don’t I buy a bike.

“Dear lady” I said, “ I am so far from decent civilisation that a car is a necessity. A bike ride just to Linton and back would be such a physically taxing hour that I’m afraid my heart would complain most violently, my legs wishing they could be detached and the dogs feet worn down to the extent that he would look more like a victim of thalidomide”.

Finally, to be healthy, I decided to consult my recipe books and watch healthy lifestyle shows on TV for exercise.

According to Gordon Ramsey, because he knows every f……..g thing we need to f….....g know, there is a f…....g cure.

1 Teaspoon of Birch leaves.

1 Teaspoon of Dandelion

1 Teaspoon of Hydrangea

Mix all the herbs, add boiling water and let simmer for a minute. Strain and drink two cups a day. Place the remaining gunk in the compost bin and ‘pray it doesn’t kill the worms’. (I added that bit after I tried it)

SUNDAY: Heavens to Betsy. Woke up this morning to the sound of animals acting the goat. On investigation I find I have another animal problem.

Timmay, the white one that impersonates dogs, had yet another psychotic episode. Now I have to get to the vet to find out what to do with a goat that has developed ‘Turette’s Syndrome’.