It's getting late and I had my second COVID jab this morning which may be why I'm making myself hoot with the idea of a black metal band comprised of all our corpse painted cabal animals. I can't work out if Badger is fuming or devious in this context.
Loving all the cats. I've always wanted a Norwegian Forest Cat, but not going to happen while I have a spaniel who's mad for chasing anything smaller than her that's fluffy.
I can turn the 2am alarm off, the last two have both lambed today Although Mrs Twins, who was the last one, turned out to be Mrs Single - or at least she had a very large ewe lamb about 2 hours ago and shows absolutely no sign of there being another one in there, which means the second one probably didn't implant properly. She has, however, saved the best for last, as this is the only one showing some colour from birth.
I said I wasn't going to keep any of these, but that one I might just change my mind about
I think I've mentioned before I adopted my cat as a kitten from the Cats Protection. My sister got hers from the RSPCA, my parents got both of theirs from a breeder (they're ocicats (the cats obvs, not my parents)). I would always recommend the Cats Protection over the RSPCA or randos selling kittens because they're 100% cat-focused and make sensible decisions about re-homing their animals. Their cats are always neutered as well.
There was a local animal rescue place I went to that allowed me to go and look at all their cats, make a shortlist of the ones I was interested in then fill out the paperwork only to tell me when I rang up two weeks later that because I lived in a flat I couldn't have any of them. I had already told them I lived in a flat beforehand and they said that wasn't a problem. A few weeks later I found the four-legged love of my life at the Cats Protection so needless to say I had the last laugh, and so did my cat.
I stopped watching it a few years back, I might have to go back and finish it - can't remember which season I got to, but it was either a season opener or the first one back after a mid-season break and Liz was on her own in a cabin in the snow. I did love it up to that point though, I just thought it was getting a bit too unbelievable.
Fraus, I am here with sad news today. Due to the death of the last of its original founding members, the Ewerhythmics have disbanded. RIP Loppy, you had a long and good life, say hello to Lucky and Bella for me.
My step dad is doing ok, still in hospital. I've never known anyone who's had a serious stroke before, I knew they did some damage but I wasn't prepared for the news that he has to learn to walk again and remember to chew and swallow food. I went to the church up the road today, the one that gives us veggies and a food parcel every week. I stayed for coffee, cake and a chat, they asked if they could pray for my dad. Now, I'm not a religious gal but I accepted and it did bring me some comfort.
Not sure if it will land 800 kms away but I'll take anything I can right now.
Being on the Mother Thread has also brought infinite laughs and relief, I just love how supportive and funny my virtual friends are.
Can our dear friend Max please follow some of Jack's recipes exactly as written and get back to us? Scuffins and headrush spaghetti would be my suggestions.
Just to add - I got food boxes for a while. I was stuck in a bit of a rut cooking-wise, and they helped get me out of that rut. They are indeed too expensive to get weekly, but if you're looking at them, it's often because you're in a headspace where the alternative you'd go for isn't supermarket + cooking, it's ordering a delivery.
I am still away from home on my walking holiday, might go back a little later than planned as I'm enjoying it so much...good thing I don't have pets or plants!
Here is some food:
Here is a view (the village below is called Colera but it's not pronounced like the disease):
2am. Little Nine is peacefully lying down in the top field at home with the 4 others still here.
5.30am. Little Nine standing on the wall by the road in the top field bellowing at all her mates who have already lambed in our big field further down the road. Mr F, who does the early morning check so I can get a bit of sleep, sensibly takes them all out of that field, away from the road, and shuts the gate.
7am. Mr F looks outside and can only see 4 ewes instead of 5. Searches all four fields by the house. No Little Nine.
7.30am. Mr F checks the big field and sees one red bum with no lambs with her. Nine has jumped out of our field, into our neighbour's field and then out of their field into ours on the other side and is now settling down to give birth. By this time I've heard all the quad bike noises and sheepy bellowing and wandered down in my dressing gown to see what's going on. Get dressed sharpish and go to check on her.
8.10am. Little Nine starts pushing.
8.30am. Small lamb on the ground being vigorously washed by its proud mother.
If anyone is interested, I did video the birth. It's not gory, there's a bit of slime, but I'm not that zoomed in.
Max is of the opinion that Jack's recipes will work if you stick to them, never said they were great and will work for people new to cooking, out camping or on a budget sort of thing...not great recipes.
Have you done a cost breakdown on the contents of a Hello Fresh box vs getting off your ass and buying in a supermarket and following a recipe?
And one of the older ladies in a bag, because when you’re older you can do what you damn well please and you’ll give this look to any human who asks you why.
Lads, thanks for all the good wishes and cattos and sheeps, I feel like I’ve been on that SAS training, but I made it through the Work Capability Assessment. As it was my voice had gone and we had to wear masks, so I had to write my answers. The nurse was ok quite formal. I didn’t cry in the end. It only lasted 30 mins and she didn’t ask me to do anything (lift arms, walk, blood pressure, weight) the best thing was it’s like a kind-of medical center so I asked to lie down when waiting for my taxi home. They had those basic dr beds, so I got 30mins rest which was great.
They say the result could take weeks
Just PIP tribunal to do next week, and a complaint to the GP I think.
Ewe 21 is in the doghouse - she lambed on the top of a slope, one of the lambs tumbled down it (or she possibly pushed him away and he fell) and she's not very keen on having him back, she much prefers his sister. They're penned up together while she decides what to do - I've rubbed the afterbirth all over him to make him smell like her again and that seems to have improved the ratio of her licking him to her trying to shove him away with her head. He is getting drinks off her when she's distracted with the other one and I've held her still a couple of times so he can get a good go - once her milk starts to work through his system he'll smell better to her as well. Hopefully by tomorrow she'll have decided she likes him too, otherwise it's bottle feeding time and that's a pain!
Lamb she's pushing away at the front by the black bucket.
I met my fella on Plenty of Fish. Couldn't hack Tinder. Swiping right (or left or whatever is a no) on people doesn't sit well with me.
I like to read a profile and take my time looking at pictures. Aware that makes me sound 100 years old but people aren't takeaway food for you to spool through!
Tinder rant over
You should get out there TS you're a hilarious catch xx
I met Mr F on Tinder 3 years ago and we're both really old. It felt weird using it at first and I treated it as a bit of a joke, but here we are, 3 years on and I'm turning down Saturday morning sex for a read about Jack Monroe.
WELL. My first job in HR was a bit of a baptism of fire - glorified call centre, approx 500 employees, majority under 30 - big drinking culture, you can imagine the HR nightmares that came with this. Nothing however beat what became known as 'turdgate'. We had these huge toilet areas, approx 20 cubicles and 20 sinks in each. Massive rooms, always people going in and out. One day, someone came into the HR office wailing about poo on the floor in the ladies. We assumed there was a bit in a cubicle (gross as it is) but no. There was something that looked like it should have come out of a great dane, right in the middle of the room. How? Why?! My manager decided the investigation and 'reeducation' should fall to me (cheers love). She wanted me to look into anyone who had recently been put on a performance plan and speak to them to see if they had partaken in a dirty protest - like hell was I going to ask people if they'd shit on the floor because they were mad about their plans?! So I stuck up some 'toilet etiquette' posters, sent out a few comms, got many many emoji/meme emails back as people thought it was hilarious I was having to send out 'guys, don't defecate in public spaces' emails. Luckily it was a one time offence, but it has scarred me for life.
Although Mrs Twins, who was the last one, turned out to be Mrs Single - or at least she had a very large ewe lamb about 2 hours ago and shows absolutely no sign of there being another one in there, which means the second one probably didn't implant properly. She has, however, saved the best for last, as this is the only one showing some colour from birth.
