arms that madonna would be proud of

most days i take a deep, deep breath, gird my loins and face a battle to end all battles.

i walk down the track from the house to our bottom barn...

* note the escaped ewe eyeing me up*

i stop and chat to Jim the portland ram who enjoys a good scratch on the nose and a general chit-chat...

i admire the oh so straight and perfect drystone wall and celebrate its existence with a small dance, for it is the one and only wall on the entire farm that has not in some way been destroyed by escaping  sheep or fat pony arses....

i then poke my head over the not so perfect wall and greet the pigs..

 nine times out of ten butch and roxi are nowhere to be seen for they are incredibly lazy and spend most of the day and night in there house.

when questioned about there absence they always put it down to the fact that it is either raining or too sunny.... 

clearly no pleasing some pigs ....

then finally the place of my battle looms large...

i know, i know it looks idyllic

do.not.be.fooled

for inside lies an almighty monster that has blighted my early mornings on many a day.....

i admire the weathered beauty of the small side door and wonder at the inside which retains its original splendour

walk to the end and .....

there

it

is

the hosepipe

now i know that after reading all this 

(well done those that have stayed with me thus far)

many of you would be expecting to see a hell beast at the very least and will scoff at my battle opponent...

i admit

i am clearly an idiot that cannot fathom out how to operate this hosepipe without getting soaked and flooding the barn ...

i always admit defeat when the water has soaked through to my undies and is slowly making its way out of the barn door ...

i empty my wellies and wring out the bottom  of my jeans with a heavy heart and face the buckets knowing that there will be many, many trips from sink to animal ahead of me

i accept it now

i am a farmer with arms that madonna would be proud of

t x