Saturday, 28 January 2012


 Sorting Silage

... for the coows
 ... and piggie might get some too
But not if Diogenes has anything to do with it

Yes, I know it's ages since I've posted here. Apologies but the rain here has been persistent that if one ventures on the the croft one is likely to disappear under the mud! We did have one day of less than all day rain - the sun even came out for a while so I went down t'road to see how grumpy The Crofter was. He wasn't grumpy at all. Probably due to the warmth of his house now the heating has been sorted and the fact that Pater Crofter was doing the feeding up.

Monday, 23 January 2012


"It's the only pleasure I have" the Crofter tried to convince me as Dad Crofter teetered on the top of the ladder trying to wedge a piece of wood behind the bracket so that Liverpool FC might score in sunshine rather than the pixelated snowstorm of late [they did score as it happens but their opponents - Bolton youth reserve team scored three times ! ]. Note how The Crofter directed affairs from the safety of the solid ground. I suppose, when the only pleasure you have is watching TV, one has to be careful.

Tuesday, 17 January 2012


Despite the coming rain, I took myself off to see The Crofter. He was putting the starting touches to some dental prosthetic work [that actually earns him dosh ] before doing something croft. Dad Crofter was strolling up t'road after moving the car, dressed in his warm winter gear. It seems there was as some grit type stuff going free so the old trailer needed emptying and refitting with its sides so that the grit stuff wouldn't be spread the length of the village. Apparently the Crofter has a spot of muddiness in the ex-lawn area where the tractor is now parked. And we wouldn't want to get the tractor tyres muddy would we? No is the answer you are looking for. So, while the Crofter and his Dad man-handled the metal coow keepy-backy bits off the trailer, I took some snaps. As you do.

Monday, 16 January 2012


All the latest Croft fashions


Yes. And no. 

Yes it is colour. Found a roll of colour film lurking around the place here and stuck it in the first camera to come to hand then pointed it at the Croft area down t'road. And no, it isn't digital then is it? Just in case you thought I'd lost the plot.

Nice though - in small doses. That's Esme the youngest licking her lips after some particularly scrumptious silage. And Mr Crofter Sir with Doris and Dutch and a feed bucket. All fighting for space in the first hutch .

Friday, 13 January 2012


The Crofter looks outside.


The sun was shining today down at t'Croft. Smiles all round as you can imagine. But the Crofter still has not got working central heating finding himself sliding around on his icy floors in the house as a result - he would have you believe. Donning his best Malcolm Maclaren designed jacket - a sort of off the shoulder [and part of the back] affair that looked well, looked like something the boar wouldn't lie on., the Crofter started the tractor into it's usual coughing rhythm and pootled round to the pile of grassy rolls covered in plastic - and mould in some cases.  The mould is because mice or some other uncaring small creature has nibbled through the blue plastic cover allowing the air to get in and the mould to form. The coows aren't too keen on the mould - and it doesn't do them much good either so, once Dad Crofter has hauled the bales onto the tractor thing on the back, and hauled them off again at the other end of the little trip, the grassy stuff has to be sorted - good from mouldy. Dad did that too.

Did I tell you sun shone??

Sunday, 8 January 2012


There's been mayhem down on t'croft. Yes, yes, I know you have heard this before but believe me when I say 'mayhem' I mean 'Reservoir Pigs' sort of mayhem. The sort of mayhem where Dad Crofter comes in and gravely say's "Paul, you better come and sort this out" then gets out of the way fast. That sort.

 The Crofter talks firmly to Maclaren [to no avail it must be said]

 In here

Doris' nose

It seems one of the lady piggies has come into season - as she is meant to do. She's with Dutch [formerly Butch - but changed because of The Crofter's sensibilities] the young boar who was trying to do his thing but only seemingly getting Doris' [or whoever it was] ire up sending her screaching round their hutch. Sounded like she was getting murdered not just 'covered' [a more sensitive term than the reality]. Meanwhile Maclaren, he of the firing blanks, the hugeness and the hutch next door was getting so p*ssed off and frustrated he had been trying to eat his way through the hutch wall - a mixture of heavy wire fence and wrinkled tin.  The result was a right royal racket with Maclaren foaming at the mouth having cut his lips on the tin he was managing to partly destroy. Meanwhile Doris [or whoever etc] had also damaged her dainty nose trying to escape the admirations and advances of Dutch. What a bloody nightmare!

The Crofter spoke very firmly to Maclaren I can tell you. I had to cover my ears and everything. It didn't do an ounce of good. The last was saw of the scene was The Crofter letting Doris and Dutch/Butch out onto the croft - to give stop Maclaren eating his way through the fence, and to give Doris a fighting chance of avoiding the randy boar! I went home.

I might add here, the quality of these snaps were enhanced by the up-market camera I was using. It's plastic and cost me 99p - I've been had! I dropped it in the sand on the beach this morning so perhaps it might not work at all now

Wednesday, 4 January 2012


 Doing coow stuff

 Doing more coow stuff

Having fun

I can't remember when on earth I took these images since it seems to have been raining for months and now The Croft is a real quagmire. Well, even more than it usually is. The pigs are loving the mud, the coows less so and have retired to their winter quarters now The Crofter has mucked it out and given then lovely clean straw to lie on - which they eat. Nevertheless, the coows also eat the sileage lovingly paid for by the Crofter. Unfortunately, they also drag the sileage out of "the thing that holds the sileage" onto the floor of the byre where they promptly pee on it - or worse. As a result, Mr Crofter and his pater have lowered "the thing that holds the sileage" before the coows 'eat' it in the vain hope that it will encourage then to do solely that. Don't hold your breath!

Meanwhile, the ducks are quite liking the weather too. I may well venture out, should it stop raining this month, and see if the whole shebang is still afloat as it were.