It has been a bit of a Royal weekend all in all. Slightly worrying really but nostalgia seems to have won out yet again.

We were actually invited out for New Year's Eve - a real proper grown up invite and the children could come too, so no babysitters required. I accepted straight away. Ten minutes later Mr Not came in from feeding the beasties and announced that he was too tired, rang them back and said we wouldn't come

He seems to forget that he goes to work and has work functions and meals in proper restaurants and people to talk to who can structure a sentence without saying "eh" and "yeah-no" every second word (OK so maybe I am exaggerating a little everyone says eh and yeah-no) but you know where I am coming from. I am socially challenged

So here I am, on New Year's Eve, blogging and watching the Royal Variety Performance Jimmy Tarbuck, Bon Jovi and to add insult to injury Dame Kiri (look how glamorous New Zealand is, honest) Te Kanawa. What is really worrying is I am actually enjoying it, especially the man who made the shadow puppetsD but no Joe Pascuale, or maybe I missed him. I have had a cup of coffee to get me through the next 40 minutes to midnight just to keep up with LC and her Dad and there is always the ironing to finish! Boy I know how to enjoy myself

Now tell me, who advises old Queeny-girl when she's choosing who gets a gong? Is it a blindfold and pin affair?

Let's face it, she needs advice This year they ranged from Dolly the Sheep's Step-Dad to the divine Des Lynam As for Lesley Phillips, he should have been crowned King in about 1980. There seems to be no method

Surely we, the great blogging community of good old Blighty (and the wider world!) can do better than that. We might even get a Royal Warrant for our unsolicited advice

So, two categories

1. Suggestions for the BCUK OSB (for Outstanding Services to Blogging)

2. People in the public eye that Queeny just overlooked again.

My vote?

1) "King Kevin OSB" (just slip the tenner in a small brown envelope Kevin and post it to 145 Wuggawugga Road, Kiwihoon, New Zealand!)

2) Sir Basil Brush

JT's best friend in the whole wide world (well in NZ anyway) is a lovely mix of attitude and naivety called "D". She is a bit of a tomboy which suits JT down to the ground as he has enough of 'silly girls' at home but she has the added bonus of being pretty into the bargain and this is beginning to matter to my 11 year old son!

This morning we received a phonecall early. Could JT go for a sleepover. Is the Pope Catholic? You try stopping him. They spent quite a while discussing Christmas presents and "D" was very impressed that he had received Fire Pois from Santa. It was all I could do to stop him packing them and a bottle of flammable liquid in his overnight bag!

Next "D" spoke to Mog (being twins has its advantages nowadays as it increases the size of your friendship group) Mog announced that she had received an MP3 player from Santa to which JTs friend replied "are they dangerous too?"

In our effort to turn the mound of dust at the rear of our house into something more Charlie Dymock and Allan Titchmarsh, we hired a landscape gardener. No, that sounds rather grand. I should say, “we hired an ex-Civil Servant who recently gave it all up and bought a van”. Nonetheless he can wield an electric saw and has built us a brilliant retaining wall around the grass we had sown over the rest of the area (not so much a lawn, more Elton John’s hair transplant).

Now another of this chap’s constructions was a deck, positioned half-way down the lawn and sort of jutting out in the middle of nowhere. I questioned whether he thought our name was Von Trapp and he had built us a stage for the children’s nightly musical soirees but today, I was forced to eat my words.

Habitually nowadays I wake at around 5am sore of back and cursing my advancing years and the horse that turned my lovely flexible string of vertebrae into a gnarled old stick. I try then to find something quiet to do until the rest of the clan get up.

Today, again, by 5.30 we were blessed with lovely warm sunshine and a sky with enough blue to make a Dutchman’s trousers. So, a good book (no, not THE Good Book) clasped to my chest I waded through the dew to the Von Trapp stage.

First the kitten followed me and then the two older cats, all running around like demented acrobats, rolling and tumbling with eachother. By about Chapter 10, I was forced to give up!

The peacock somewhere over in the bush was wailing away insistently with all the neighbourhood hens as his backing singers. Our hens, in particular, like to inform us just how difficult it is to produce breakfast through the eye of a needle and squawk and holler in their discomfort.

My favourite view from our ‘garden’ is of the hills and bush. You can really see that we live right in the middle of an ancient volcano and the hills are its rim all bumpy and rough looking. The morning sun (when it does shine!) colours its banks 6 or 7 shades of green and the few trees that sit on top, lean West from the strain of years fighting against the strong winds that we get.

3 Hawks weaved in and out of the trees in the distance and the Cabbage White flutterbys hopping around the thistle that really shouldn't be in our garden (sorry Mr Titchmarsh) gave the impression of being about the same size.

Then Daisy the Dexter started bellowing and set all the other calves off and the hum of the electric water pump hailed the wakening of the rest of the household. Back to reality!

If only I could dig out these 18 acres and transplant them somewhere in England. Do you think the Tardis would do the job?

I woke up to sun this morning. One of the great things about not being able to afford curtains just yet is that the first thing one sees when one wakes up is weather! The next thing is usually three cats sitting by the glass sliding door miaowing demandingly to be let in.

Having gone to bed last night with Sky News' coverage of Benazir Bhutto's funeral in the background, I woke up to the news that the cause of her death was a nasty bump on the head
I can quite clearly remember the first time I heard her talking about her politics on Radio 4 - Woman's Hour I think and it must have been quite early on in her career as President. I just keep thinking of those 3 kids and her husband looked as if it just hadn't sunk in.

For the Family Not, today was great. We splodged around on the deck in the sun for a while phoning the Mother Country and supping smoothies for breakfast. The nice shop gave us a lid for Santa's smoothie-maker out of another box despite Mr Not being unable to produce a receipt. Some other unsuspecting soul will now be receiving a lidless blender in the not-too-distant future I suspect!!!

One low point was that Mr Not's Mum sounded terrible on the phone today. Her cancer has now spread to nodes in her neck and within the past week her voice has almost completely gone. Such is her positive spirit that we spent this morning's call discussing her future career running an 0800 chatline using her new-found sultry voice but seriously things don't look bright at all.

The children managed to track down some of their oldest friends on MSN and they had a long chat. They haven't spoken since last Christmas but just pick up with eachother like they have never been away, holding up the dogs for their friends to see again and checking eachother's haircuts!

We spent most of the morning at the libary and when we got home I set up some jumps for the kids and their horses. We don't have anything posh, just car tyres from the local dump and tree branches but they had a whale of a time whilst I toddled about cutting down wonky trees and feeding stock. My little 'Alfie' calf actually ate out of my hand today (sorry, it's not really proper farming is it James ?!)

To finish the day, we sat up until 10.30 playing board games on the deck. The kids thrashed me - I preferred it when they were little and I had to help them to win

Tonight, for the first time this season, I wasn't midged to bits. Maybe this had something to do with the several citronella candles, a bug lantern and a huricane lamp burning citronella oil. It worked perfectly, although everything I drink now tastes of paraffin and lemon soap!!

Well that's my day dayed - Hope you enjoy your Saturday. Nighty morning

Whatever your politics or your opinion of Benazir Bhutto I would like to pay tribute to this amazing woman who lived and died for her politics and for democracy

When pregnant with her second child in 1989, she quoted her father as saying "Timing, in Politics, is everything". She checked with her doctor that it was safe and then gave birth by caesarian section to enable her to get back to work and deal with the National Strikes which were arranged to overthrow her Goverment. She succeeded.

Her return home at the end of the year was a brave and emotional event and one which she has paid for with her life.

The cowards that shot her should refer back to the book that they profess to hide behind. She may have been a politician with views that were not to their taste, but Benazir Bhutto was first and foremost a woman and mother. Religion is not my thing but even I know what Mohammed said about killing women and children.

May Pakistan be protected from the US Government

It may just be that I am living on the wrong side of the world and that our goods are all mass produced for pennies in slave-driving Far-Eastern factories but I have noticed that the goods we have bought over the past year are increasingly more likely to be faulty, broken or have bits missing!

This Christmas for example:

I received a smoothie maker ... without a lid? (oops Santa forgot to give Mr Not the receipt so we will have to hope that the shop will be understanding)

JT was given a stunt kite that had a broken strut and couldn't be flown

There was a scratched CD that came with a toy that projects the stars of the Southern hemisphere over your bedroom ceiling (no it wasn't given to me but I wouldn't mind a go occasionally!)

JT was also given a really lovely (but he would want me to point out, very masculine) bone necklace by a friend that broke within seconds

The stone fell off Mog's new ring within an hour.

Then there was a new squashy cafetiere-type coffee pot and the squashy bit fell off

A Mah Jong set - 2 pieces missing!!

The new pump that provides the farm with water died on Christmas Eve (for the 5th time since we moved here in August)

The newly fitted Sky connection is on the blink and the satellite Broadband connection died for two days!

I have checked the family - all their parts appear to be in fully working order but I really think that Santa's mind just isn't on his job at the moment.

Well he must have arrived at some stage after 1.30am. I know that cos at least one member of our household was still awake at that time.

We spent Christmas Eve at a friend's barbeque. Mog overdid the sausages and Tiramisu This, followed by a game which appeared to involve 20 children between the ages of 8 and 17 catapulting eachother from a violently swinging hammock, culminated in her engaging in a long conversation on the 'great white telephone'

Lu decided that we had to draw a line under the whole "do I or don't I believe in Santa" debacle Her tactics including staying awake for hours in the hope that I would get fed up and own up. In the end I marched into her bedroom and grabbed her stocking muttering something about her missing out if she didn't get to sleep and I was putting the stocking by the fire just in case he came early! No stockings in bedrooms next year - I need my sleep

JT did his best to keep the magic alive by 'seeing the sleigh' in the sky on the way home from the barbeque and then rushing off to bed as soon as he could. He was rewarded with his fire pois on Christmas morning, a bottle of Kerosene in which to soak them and (sarcastic old Santa) a pot of burn cream just in case

The girls both got their MP3 players thanks to (the Kiwi equivalent of Greensheild stamps) Flybuys and I got all the things I hinted for. A translation of the Koran from Meg and a Mah Jong set and an 'How to Play' book from Mr Not.

Then there were some things I hadn't asked for which just proved that the kids are growing up - a novel based in Afghanistan from Lu which I had secretly thought of buying for myself. She really knows how I tick and exactly what to buy for me. JT gave me a small wooden box full of chocolate. This was largely because he thought he could make the box into a toy sleigh. He, like me, loves tinkering at his work bench and making things with wood.

Santa also got a bit confused and bought me a beautiful pearl necklace I wore it with my shorts and T shirt yesterday when I fed the animals

We had a good old fashioned Christmas (very 1970s) and someone even bought JT a Morecombe and Wise DVD just to complete the illusion.

We're off to eat somebody else's left-overs today with the old Kiwi tradition of bringing a plate. (Of course I never put anything on the plate. I'm English for egg's sake).

Hope yours has been happy and fun.

Lots of love. Nighty morning from the Land of the Long White Stocking xxx

I have just caught myself adding a sad emoticon to a business email. I have been wrangling with a particular company for yonks and was just about to write "Unfortunately your original email appears to have gone astray when I remembered where I was.

Does this mean that I am officially too obsessed with blogging? Oh, roll on Christmas! Nighty morning.

We live on a side road about 5km from any 'proper' road and in the middle of nowhere with about 4 houses around us. Although our house is way up a drive from the road and it is pouring with rain, bashing away on our metal roof, I can still hear the little sweeties, hooning up and down our road. I can tell from the screech of brakes that they do have such fun. They generously pour diesel on to the road so that they draw patterns on the tarmac with their tyres and turn wheelies spreading our gravel road into lovely snakey humps. They are so giving - chucking their Bourbon and Coke bottles out of a window as they pass a driveway in the hope that one of us is out there to catch it.

One curmudgeonly neighbour suggested sitting with a chain harrow and pulling it out into the road just as they drove up but I think that is petty. Who am I to ruin their Summer holidays. They must be so fulfilled and their parents, so proud.

Hah! Happy Christmas from the lovely peaceful countryside

I am postively jiggling up and down in my chair at the prospect. MacDonalds have (allegedly) played right into my hands at last. It's pay-back time

For years I endured their wretched Torture Meals in a box with a toy. Ironically I always had to hold the toy to ransom to get the children to eat the so-and-so nuggets and chips but still, bowing to peer pressure, they insisted on return visits.

Finally, Mog, always the politically correct one, decided she could cope with their food no longer and refused to join the rest of the family in a MacDonalds in Sweden, siting George Bush's (allegedly) warmongering Government (allegedly!) as her excuse! Hallelujah! God Bless the Stop the War Coalition! Mr Not was fuming (though only allegedly ) It was the only cheap food within a 10 mile radius of Stockholm and his kids were revolting

Well anyway. My point: This evening. Half-watching TV. Advert for Macky D's. Fictional advertising bloke has failed to come up with a name for their new burger, please could customers eat one and then log on to a website to suggest a name for this most recent of culinary delights

There is a minor obstacle in that, I think, I have to eat the (allegedly) horrible thing before I can log on to name it

How do you think the "Shit Burger" will catch on? (allegedly)

The other week, I decided to shed my jeans in favour of shorts. It's Summer for eggs’ sake, time for brown legs in shorts (NB for the more squeamish amongst you these are of course the type of shorts that cover the progressively sagging skin on my knees )

Now this Winter I wore out three pairs of cheap steel toe-cap wellies in 2 months and decided that I should invest in a good, hardy, pair of Skellerup Red Band - ‘proper’ and quite expensive, farmer’s boots! Surely Red Bands would last. They’re (allegedly!) the Prada of all wellies in Kiwiland! It seemed a good idea at the time.

All was well in the land of the Gum Boot until I donned the shorts and marched around the fields for a while. It was then that I remembered why, as kids, we can’t wait to shed our 3/4 length boots in favour of big girls'/boys' tall, puddle-splashing wellies.

The transition to long wellies is of course, a rite of passage (a sort of Clarkes version of the Bat-mitzvah / Bahmitzvah) but I also now realise that primarily kids just can't wait to get away from calf-length boots (for my new Skellerup Red Band are a calf-length boot) that rub great big, red, stripy, sores on your calves.

We’re not talking a little blister here These are the type of big, red, stripy, sore that take weeks (and weeks) to heal and leaves a faint pink stripe right across your leg.

Constantly one is assailed with concerned comments such as “Oh dear your leg does look sawer (that's Kiwiese for 'sore' for the uninitiated), how did that happen”.

My explanation should of course be glamorous, dramatic and feature The Gold Coast, sun-kissed beaches and Great White sharks Instead I shuffle from foot to foot, lower my gaze and mutter sheepishly, like a snotty primary school child at wet playtime “my wellies rubbed them”

So the solution? Walking boots with socks! It looks quite cool if you wear big thick chunky socks and they tend to draw the eye away from the saggy knees (Trinny and Susanna would be proud of me!)

So, two weeks, and quite a lot of sun, later, i'm tanned, blister-free and now ...... I have SOCK MARKS. Big porridge-coloured bands around the ankles that just don’t match the rest of my leg.

You just can't win

I've done it again. I vowed last year that I wouldn't

It was midnight on 21st December. I made myself a half-pint mug of strong expresso coffee to try and keep awake and hit the online last-minute pressie websites.

Somehow, this year seems much worse as I have only sent one Christmas card. Just the one to my Mother-in-Law and that is really cos she isn't well. Now, as I write this, I realise that I have omitted to buy her a pressie! Aaargh. It is so difficult to buy something for someone who ain't long for this world.

I have 'done' the nephews, I have 'done' close friends' children and I have 'done' the two members of my family but having not seen any of them for nearly 3 years, it is getting harder and harder to know what to buy. Children, especially, change so much in such a short time.

My Sister in Law always buys my girls hair clips and scrunchies for the long hair they no longer have and JT football stuff when he hasn't seen a game of football in yonks. Why don't we just cut out the middle-man, spend ten quid on something our own children want and tell them it is from their Auntie Nellie?

So, 'Mr Not' will disappear off with the children tomorrow, trying to look as if he isn't about to run frantically round the local shops yelling at the children, growling at the shop assistants and trying to find something to put under the tree for yours truly!

The industrial strimmer was bought today but he obviously doesnt intend wrapping that up for me as he has already used it ... or does he?

Bah Humbug one and allD

Well LC finished Intermediate School yesterday lunchtime and a trailer was needed to bring home her stuff. Not for her a few paintings and a book or two .

I had (in the pouring rain) to bring home her sculpture – a 6 foot tree made from native wood and No 8 wire! It is absolutely beautiful, but then I am a bit biased! Now the only decision is where to put it. I may have to ask Lonemum for a few tips on weather-proofing the native wood base. The wire, I think, will look even better once it has started to rust and take on more of a tree-like colour.

As I think I have mentioned before, this year, they are all toddling on to High School. Only two of their friends appear to be moving completely away but the rest of them will go local Boys’and Girls’ Colleges.

At midday yesterday there was a great weeping and a wailing and a gnashing of teeth… confusingly from the Year 7 children who have another year at the school As LC pointed out to her mates “we are going to see each other on Sunday at a party!”

The texting has already started though! I had always been quite proud that LC wasn’t one of those with her finger permanently glued to the mobile. That all changed yesterday though! She’s a High School girl now, and with that comes texts to arrange her social life !
She had her hair cut last night and spent the next 10 minutes photographing her floppy fringe and texting it to half her classmates

So today at Intermediate Schools all over the area there is the bun-fight that is the uniform sale. Ever hopeful, LC suggested that she might pocket the resultant proceeds!!! I countered that suggestion by pointing out the price of her High School uniform and the fact that the money needed to be ploughed back into clothing her next year! What a mean mother!

Well no more sandwich boxes, 7.30 school buses and 2.30 pick-ups. 10 weeks of glorious, relaxing Summer – and maybe we’ll even have some sun by mid-January

Soggy Christmas to you all!

I was just fumbling around the site searching for messages from my bloggity friends and wrestling with my satellite dish and it's constant state of rain fade.

Bleery eyed, I glanced at BCUK's Privacy Policy which to my tired morning-time peepers read "We do not send Sperm or sell email adresses"

Well I should jolly well hope not. The last thing I want are unsolicited tadpoles in my Inbox

Am I less than Christian? Today I went to LC’s End of Term/ Graduation Assembly at Intermediate (11-13 yr olds) School. We all sat through the ‘Jazz’ band singing ‘Shake your Tail Feather’ which sounded like a cockatiel having its tail feathers removed sans anaesthetic. This was followed by “Phaaaaan-TOM- of the Opera da-da-de-da-de-da” played on out-of-tune cornet with accompanying squeaky flute. Then Feliz Navidad sung in three different languages (Maori, English and Spanish) and awards to every and I mean EVERY class in the school (19 of them).

I am getting quite good at the NZ National Anthem sung in Maori and one Kiwi actually commented today that she was impressed that I could sing it. Little did she know that it is all phonetic and I haven’t a clue what it means. It is prettier than ‘God Save her Maj’ and even has a groovy modern beat and a sort of Haka-esque chant half way through.

Then, I blotted my copybook. Half way through the ceremony they awarded the “Bloggs Family Award for Excellence in Chess” which was won by (you’ve guessed it) Billy Bloggs. In a manner true to form, I turned to my neighbour who was a rather statuesque Kiwi woman of a certain age and sniggered “Isn’t nepotism a wonderful thing” only to find my head firmly clasped between her snarling but beautifully polished and flossed tombstone teeth. “Actually he is a very good player” she hissed. Oh dear, I really should keep my sarky asides to myself! Do you think I might have been sitting next to Mrs Bloggs?

Mog (the younger) has come home today with a lovely laminated piece of A4 paper which bears her name and comments written by every class member on their opinion of their classmate.

This is a lovely idea and a great end to the academic year. I wish I had one of these for every one of my years at school

Comments this year include (and I guess the first one was from a boy

“I think Girls normally finish their work first (unfortunately)”

“You have a great sense of humour and you make me laugh all the time”

“Just like frogs you’re always bubbly and bouncy” (methinks they have been studying the witches scene in Macbeth)

“Always in charge” (another one from a boy I presume )

“Your amazing attitude towards others rocks. You love to laugh and make new friends” (Mog repeated this sentence over and over trying to work out why she had an attitude to other people’s rocks until I suggested it might be as in the American slang “Rox!” as in your attitude to others is “spiffing”

JT, on the other end of the scale, looked up at me this morning at breakfast and said. “when is Christmas?”
“Next week” I replied
“No, I mean what date is Christmas? Is it 31st December or 24th?”
“You tell me JT”
“It’s the 31st isn't it?” He really does remind me of Dylan the Magic Roundabout Rabbit sometimes!

As tomorrow is set to be frantic I am getting ahead of myself and thought I would write tomorrow's post, today. CHEAT!

I am not supposed to talk about this as Mr Not is very embarrassed ! Now when have I ever toed the party line ?

About a month ago we collected 10 coos from a farm about an hour’s drive away. We took our horse box (confusingly called a float over here – for why?).

On the way home, we were feeling really very smug at the ease with which we had moved said coos from the owners’ yard into the float/horsebox/trailer. They were all recently weaned, lively, hungry and rather sad at leaving mum.

Suddenly there was a terrible commotion from behind us. Hoots, shouts and red faces. There were a few counter-expletives from Mr Not, before we realised that this wasn’t road rage. He didn’t look particular angry with us, and didn’t appear to want to overtake. He just seemed to be ever-so slightly concerned. THEN we saw the swinging side door of the horsebox ….. cue dramatic music … Da Da Daaaah !

One of the coos (and thank goodness it was only one) had managed to kick open the door and had fallen backwards out of the side, and into the Saturday traffic on the main road (think a Cornish lane in mid-winter, not exactly the M1!)

Luckily we were only travelling at about 5 – 10km per hour as we were on a steep incline and the poor old car couldn’t cope with the weight. Another blessing was that
said Coo (now affectionately named Eddie the Eagle for his ability to jump without the aid of a safety net) had chosen a stretch of road slap bang next to a dairy farm.

By the time we found him, he had attracted quite a crowd. This throng included a rather officious pensioner who refused to let us near him as “the owners were coming back for him”

Luckily the Headmaster of the local school was also behind us – out for a Saturday drive. He knew the dairy farmer and said he would go and smooth things over with him so that we could herd Eddie into his yard and back on to the … oh lets just call it a float to make things simple!

Once I could get a signal once more on my mobile (there I go again, moaning about the technology ) I called the vet who insisted that we meet him in the car park for a shot of antibiotics and some pain-killers. He didn’t say what he was going to do for Eddie the Eagle (oh sorry, that was so predictable)

Now, a month (and several squirts of my trusty Iodine) later, old Eddie is gambling (no silly, not that sort of gambling) around the field with the best of them. He had quite a lot of bruising and a couple of cow-type grazes and our egos were a bit bumped and battered. Never again will we travel with beasties in our ‘float’ without double locking that side door. Another lurch skyward in the learning curve that is my life in Kiwiland.

Today the satellite is on go-slow. Sorry to everyone if I haven't responded to your comments or accepted your friendship or read your contributions.

Acessing the internet has taken 2 hours of switching off all the plugs waiting 3 minutes, switching it back on, repeating the exercise etc etc.
Then downloading (or is that uploading?) emails takes 5 minutes per email. I have tried to accept Kiki's hand of friendship about 15 times now but it just won't work. Sorry Kiki, I will get there in the end!

Today was a rainy day ... again! All that panic about El Nino and the hot dry Summer at the beginning of the season seems to have been absolute cod's wallop. We are having the usual soggy run up to Christmas which I quite like as it makes me feel slightly more Christmassy.

I'm still not used to warm weather for this part of the religious calendar although one can only assume that the Little Town of Bethlehem wasn't exactly under snow when his nibs was born was it? (Yeah I know he wasn't even born in December but then was he born at all?) (ooooooooooohhhhh - hides head inside her T shirt for fear of reprisal - controversy )

I finished the Crimble shopping today and am now slightly less fraught. I still haven't send out ANY cards or sorted any presents for Mr H's family back home. I can see it being Thorntons online or Amazon yet again and even then they won't get there in time for Easter!
It is at times like this that I am jolly relieved that I don't have any immediate family left standing!

I spent the soggy day crawling around the perimeter of all the electric fences cutting the long grass with garden shears and a machete! My fused vertebrae won't let me bend over any more so I decided that crawling was the only option (try not to think too deeply about this image as it is faintly embarrassing ! I looked like a demented toddler with a death wish) That industrial strimmer for Christmas is starting to become quite appealing!

All the coo's bits are looking slightly less sore (if a little orange from the squirty Iodine). The 11 year old Mog has stopped searching round the fields for detatched scrotum at least and has now worked out that they are not called "croutons" after allD (I thought it best to enlighten her before she went to a restaurant, saw Soup with Crouton on the menu and freaked out!)

Now Kiki, let's have another go at saying "yes please" to you.

Nighty Morning. Yours Aye Me!

I just can't seem to remember the password to access poor old Wugamumftaga's blog. The poor old girl has gone ever so slightly senile since moving house and, as she has also changed ISPs (gosh that almost sounds as if I know what I am talking about!), she can't even ask the nice people at BCUK to send her another one by email.

We may as well forget about the old bird altogether and concentrate on my own life.

I have decided I might be turning into a fair-weather type of gal in my old age. The last hour has been spent standing in the sheeting rain squirting gammy testicles with Iodine.

My self-image is now not quite what it was. I have wet pants, trench foot and could give a few young ladies a run for their money in a Wet T-shirt Competition (or maybe not! ) I look like a drowned rat and my hands have turned an attractive Iodine/nicotine stained orange.

Oh the testicles? They belonged to the coos who were mangled by a clever man who ringed their dangly bits too high up, too late and with too few rubber rings. If only I could get my hands on his dangly bits .. or would that be GBH (not grevious bodily harm at all, it stands for Grab Balls Higher)

Tonight the kids and I decided to have a guitar and light-poi "fest" in the back garden as it had gone dark when we finished tea and it seemed like the thing to do.

Mog was merrily twiddling pois, safe in the knowledge that she is completely tone-deaf. LC and JT meanwhile were happily playing duets (well not exactly happily as they punctuated each piece with arguments about who was playing too fast and getting out of sync).

Suddenly it dawned on LC that this is her last week with boys in her class EVER It's academic purdah for the next 5 years!

I hadn't even thought about it, being more worried about the academic prowess of said school. There was also really no choice - a Boys' High School and a Girls' High School within our area and that is that. In hindsight, however, I am not sure that segregation of the sexes is the right way to go for any child. Snot natural

LC's main argument for co-ed schools is, and I quote: "It's good to have boys in your class cos you can make sarky comments to boys and they don't get all 'umpy"

Oh well, another era. Big School starts in February.

So far my haul includes:

- A bright red granny-shaped T-shirt with a beautiful Poinesettia motif (destined to be a pyjama top methinks!) The boss says we can use it as contraception!

- A year's subscription to the Weekly Telegraph. This is acually a really sweet thought but doesn't really take into account my political leanings (which are very markedly towards the West!)

There are rumours that I might be bought a lovely industrial strimmer for the bit of grass underneath my electric fence that is sapping all the power out of the wire. There are also counter-rumours that I might be filing for divorce on 27th December when the Solicitors' offices re-open!

By the way photos posted for lonemum as promised. We haven't got very many and I haven't enough space for a house photo (anyway we don't want the "meddlesome priest" rearing his nosy head again do we now! He might turn up unannounced for more tea vicar!)

This is Bill Muggins who has taken to following me around the farm and jumping on the tractor when he gets tired and Ellie the pregnant Dexter Cow

It is good to see that nothing has altered in the land of Blog.

Already I am having comments posted before they're finished. Sorry Sir Jack of Frost, I tried to respond to your comment but my screen split in half and the writing went all wonky (I am sure a course of anti-biotics will put me right in no time).

I got my first friend too! Thanks LM I was beginning to feel like Nelly No-Mates. I can remember Lindow responding to my impassioned plea for friends when I first started blogging. Always the first to rescue a damsel in distress bless 'im! Where is he now? off petting his Jerseys and having a 'real' conversation with Kathy when he could be blogging to me. If only he knew!

I will try and dig out photos of the farm LM. I even have a tractor now - no more wheelbarrow for me. Oh No!

The downside is the fused vertebrae which apparently happened when I was about 10 years old but will stop me riding, at best for a few months, at worst for ever. I have handed my Killer Beastie on to LC who is busy trying not to kill herself by taking him to Pony Club. What have I spawned? A child that goes to Pony club (noises off: middle-aged mother spitting into the gutter). I hated the very idea of Pony Club as a kid. All those jumped up lasses spouting BS about their little horsey. And guess what, it just hasn't changed a bit, not even here in good old down-to-earth Kiwiland!

Well the resurgence of instruments of telecommunication to the Herneschase household has revolutionised our lives! No longer the smoke-signals and carrier pigeon for us. A proper telephone! OK so it took 4 months and about $200 worth of mobile phone bills to achieve it but finally I am back in the real world once more! Broadband well there's a whole n'other story. OK so it is a bit hamster in wheel. The satellite doesn't seem to like wind, rain, or extreme heat but, just occasionally there is a southerly breeze from Panama and it works perfectly.

My coos are wonderful. The only intelligent conversation I get all day (well actually the ONLY conversation I get all day but don't tell anyone or they'll think I'm sad). My 5 babies are all weaned and bigger and fatter than all the rest. We have two mums due to have calves in the Autumn and our Daisy had her baby back in October.

The Dexter Society insist that you choose a theme for naming your coos and suggest that you adopt a consonent for each year (this year's being the letter G). Well the kids chose Precious Stones as our theme so Garnet he became (for he was a bull calf). Of course, me being me, and a rabid West Ham fan- well someone has to do it - has nicknamed him "Alf"
and unlike his namesake, he is the sweetest and most biddable creature in the entire universe (no I am not in the least bit besotted!)

Hang on I'm thirsty must go and get a bottle of water....... that's better.

I am also officially Mad Cat Woman too. In addition to Mannie and Magpie we acquired the most determined little Torty kitten back in October and she now runs our house. She has extra toes so we called her Cardi after the Cardiganshire kittens who were known for their extra digits. I wanted to call her "Pobble" but the irony was lost on the kids so I gave up.

The cats have taken to haring around the house at 4am tearing up the furniture and wallpaper and releasing baby rabbits which they chase up and down the landing until they expire from abject terror. In truth, I have never asked for a post-mortem on said bunnies but I think it is fair to say that the cause of death is pretty definitely shock!

Oh talking of post-mortems. Two of the cows we recently purchased died, almost immediately, of tetanus! Great horror all round and a post-mortem was needed to prove to the original owner what was wrong. Believe me, delivering your 3 children to school with two dead (no actually one dead and one twitching) calves in the back of the trailer does nothing for their street cred'.

Oh well fizzy water consumed I will go to my bed farting and burping and in a generally attractive state.

I will try to search out some photos for LM in the morning.

Nighty morning everyone. Yours Aye

It seems like months since I put finger to keyboard and probably all my bloggy friends have forgotten me and pressed the Alt N 'Not-my-friend anymore'

Finally, I am blogging with Broadband. I didn't know what I was missing - it's so much quicker. OK so the satellite dish is a bit dodgy but that is usually only when it is windy.... It is windy quite a lot but we have Broadband and who am I to moan!

Well we have moved in and we even have a telephone (OK so it took 4 months but I can call people without the aid of smoke signals now!)

We have a proper herd of coos - well OK not on a par with some people I could mention, but we have 22 and 2 more on the way. My chickens ar