She's Not Herneschase... shes a very naughty girl

Oh Usky all this Interesting Title stuff is playing havoc with my creative juices And that Archivist is eating all the jaffacakes I have specially imported from the Mothercountry

In a desperate attempt to make my K2-sized ironing pile more palatable, I decided to watch the Documentary Channel yesterday afternoon. Ironic really as I had spent most of the previous evening lecturing the kids on why they shouldn't turn on the TV willy-nilly during the day

Low and behold, a docco (see I can speak Kiwiese!) on the McLibel Two (Helen Steel and David Morris) who spent years battling with Maccy Ds and, then more years taking on the British Government in Strasbourg over the British Libel laws. It was absolutely fascinating and inspiring to boot. Made me wish I had entered that Kiwi TV promotion to name their new burger after all. Really not sure they would have gone for that Sh** burger thing though. Perhaps Nots not ready to take on the World just yet

Any road up. Today I have decided that I need to take up some sort of study. Not “Mosaics” or “Flower Arranging for the Blue-rinsed Citizen” but something vaguely academic. Not sure what though. Rather drawn to History, but not Kiwi History so that idea’s not going to work. Always wanted to do an Anthropology Degree (not sure the local school do night-classes in amateur Anthropology!). Then there is always Ingerlish. Humpf

Do you think this is the makings of a mid-life crisis? I thought I had passed mid-life long ago. Perhaps I am destined to live longer than I thought. If this is my mid life then I am due to live ‘til I’m 90. How will I celebrate my 90th birthday. Should I book a hall now? What about the catering?

Aw forget it. Back to the cows

PS rain, rain we have RAIN. Proper rain that has gone on all night and made the whole place misty and invisible ...dances off delighted into the sunrise

Oh Usky all this Interesting Title stuff is playing havoc with my creative juices And that Archivist is eating all the jaffacakes I have specially imported from the Mothercountry

In a desperate attempt to make my K2-sized ironing pile more palatable, I decided to watch the Documentary Channel yesterday afternoon. Ironic really as I had spent most of the previous evening lecturing the kids on why they shouldn't turn on the TV willy-nilly during the day

Low and behold, a docco (see I can speak Kiwiese!) on the McLibel Two (Helen Steel and David Morris) who spent years battling with Maccy Ds and, then more years taking on the British Government in Strasbourg over the British Libel laws. It was absolutely fascinating and inspiring to boot. Made me wish I had entered that Kiwi TV promotion to name their new burger after all. Really not sure they would have gone for that Sh** burger thing though. Perhaps Nots not ready to take on the World just yet

Any road up. Today I have decided that I need to take up some sort of study. Not “Mosaics” or “Flower Arranging for the Blue-rinsed Citizen” but something vaguely academic. Not sure what though. Rather drawn to History, but not Kiwi History so that idea’s not going to work. Always wanted to do an Anthropology Degree (not sure the local school do night-classes in amateur Anthropology!). Then there is always Ingerlish. Humpf

Do you think this is the makings of a mid-life crisis? I thought I had passed mid-life long ago. Perhaps I am destined to live longer than I thought. If this is my mid life then I am due to live ‘til I’m 90. How will I celebrate my 90th birthday. Should I book a hall now? What about the catering?

Aw forget it. Back to the cows

PS rain, rain we have RAIN. Proper rain that has gone on all night and made the whole place misty and invisible ...dances off delighted into the sunrise

Now that I have provided Usky with the original and inspired title he requested, here is a scintillating account of my day. You know you're interested
You are
Go on you are
OK you're not That's a coincidence cos I'm Not too

5.30am awoke to sound of daughter's alarm.

5.35 She ignored it.

5.40 I got up and turned it off.

5.41 - 7.10 time unaccounted for due to semi-comatosed state

7.10 made sludgy coffee in expresso machine cos forgot to insert rubber seal

7.15am staggered down to farm, sludgy coffee in hand to catch unruly calves

8.45 gave up trying to train heifers to be ruly (which one can only assume is the opposite of unruly )

9am cooked breakfast - how else are we going to get rid of 56 eggs a week?

9.15 - 10am was bombarded with rude comments from family about repeated eggy breakfasts

10.01am Children invited troop of friends over to see new calves

12.30 got rid of all the kids (including mine own) and attacked the ironing

4 - 4.59pm lost the will to live having buried myself in non-wrinkly clothing and then hid (you know, like Anne Frank) to write some emails

5pm Discovered by Mr Not who immediately recognised that I was not Anne Frank and asked me to move some cattle

5.01 - 6.05pm Collected children and made tea

6.06pm It rained for the first time since before New Year

6.08pm Stopped raining

6.09 - 6.59pm Scavenged around for something edible to cook on a barbecue

7pm ate revolting barbecue and decided I hated white bread

7.20pm to 8.29 pm contemplated doing more ironing and decided that talking to children was far more entertaining.

8.30pm finally wrestled two children to bed

8.31 to 9pm Tried to mend elder daughters iPod which has been killed by younger daughter amidst much acrimony and screaming

9.01pm - 9.29pm Compressed things and added things to eldest daughters computer in an attempt to revive said iPod.

9.30pm sat down in front of another computer to do bloggity things

11.12pm Bed. Nighty morning

When we first arrived in Kiwiland, we travelled around in a campervan for 4 weeks. It was then that our fate was sealed by Mog.

We were on the Ferry from Picton (S.Island) to Wellington when Mog spotted a cattle truck piled high with white-faced moos. She asked where they were going and Mr Not (not being particularly good at child psychology) told her that they were off to be slaughtered at, what is known over here as "the works". Cue half and hour of sobbing from Mog

To pacify her Mr Not agreed that she could have a house cow when we bought a few acres. Yes, it could be called Wellington (Mog failed to see the irony of a beef cow called Wellington") and it could be a Dexter (her favourite cow - small cute and black!)

We never gave it another thought but Mog did... Two years' later, having spent ages acquiring title for the land, she collared a local Dexter breeder at an agricultural show and then proceeded to stalk her at every Ag' show that Season. When we first setting up a herd Mog insisted we phone this lady (whose number she had saved!) and talk about buying 'a couple' of Dexters. So, last July we took delivery of Faithful and Elegant ( pre-named!!) pregnant Dexter heifers.

Cos they are a rare breed here, Dexters are quite expensive so we make our money on White-Faces (ie Hereford X) and Angus X stock and use the proceeds to build up the Dexter herd which now consists of Daisy, her baby 'Alfie' (stud name Garnet), Elegant, Faithful, Grace and Geneva. By July when Ellie and Faith calf we should have 8 in Mog's herd! By crikey she is determined

I was a rabid veggie for 20 years (ironically, red meat doubles me up with abdominal cramps) but living in New Zealand makes vegetarianism pretty difficult so I have made a concession to eat fish and chicken now.) Breeding cows for the table is not really my thing. Luckily we don't have the space to keep them until death do us part so I can put the gory bit to the back of my mind, look after them as pets and sell them on to nice friendly farmers who will give them a happy and healthy final year The Dexters are a long-term investment and will be sold on to other owners of small-holdings to breed and home-kill for the freezer as they think fit. They tell me that this is the way in which the breed will continue.

In the meantime, Mog set her alarm for 5.30 this morning so that she could go down to the shed in the cool and halter-train, groom and cuddle the two new girls in preparation for next week's breed show. It is a pretty tall order considering the girls were only weaned last week and are new to being handled. The calves were given to her with showing in mind and she plans to troll around the country (with us in tow!) making her girls look pretty and promoting the breed.
I can just imagine her in 20 years time - The Barbara Woodhouse of the bovine world The other two children really don't get her but nod sagely and indulge their sister

Well that is the story of how a couple of poms were forced into playing farmers!