My Brother

From my childhood

“Who put salt in the sugar bowl?

Who put fireworks in the coal?

Who put a real live toad in the hole?


Who put jam in mothers shoe?

Who made real caterpillars stew?

Who locked Grandad in the loo?


My brother said it wasn’t he who put shampoo in Grandma’s tea

My brother said that it was me!

My brothers rotten!

Who squeezed toothpaste round the hall?

Who put soot in the baby’s ball?

Who drew things on the garden wall – MY BROTHER!

He looks just like a chimney sweep
But dirt they say is just skin deep.
I know he’s good when he’s asleep!
(but you don’t know what he’s dreamin’ about do ya?)

Who wouldn’t mind if I ride his bike?
Who lets me shoot his gun if I like?
Who says I’m best at Football, Ludo, Snakes & Ladders, Hide & Seek,
Chasin’ each other up and down the garden, pinchin’ little girls up the high street?
Well he’s gotta say I’m best ’cause I’m bigger than he is and if he don’t say I’m best at everything, I’ll bash him.

Come on, come on mate, lets get out of here before you fall down the hole in the middle
Come on give us your hand’ we’re gonna walk …
‘ere what you had in your hand?
‘ave ya?



(seriously bad move, Dreki!)

Lyrics – Mitch Murray / Terry Scott – I was brought up with this!


Sleepy Bye-Byes

The ground is drying up now and everyone is making the most of this.  The routine is to have a little lie down after eating their silage – a little morning nap.

Dreki is now a fully-fledged member of being one-of-the-boys.

He gets on well with his half-brother, Efstur, on his mother’s side.  They like each other very much.

And I think they are quite similar in temperament.

Moving Dreki has been one of my better ideas!  Mother, what mother?

He is very settled and happy in his new environment.

Hjalti is the grown-up in the herd.

Yes, you heard, the grown up!

Dreki, as the baby, has been put in his place – the bottom of the pecking order – but if it means having real friends to play with, he is very happy to stay there.

I left them all dozing with a small terrier “en garde”.

Happy snoozing little boys.

King of the Chickens

Every day Taktur has his food to make him big and strong as well as maintaining his Handsome Princeness.  Note the pink bucket too.  Extra gorgeous now.

But there are others that covet Taktur’s bucket and they don’t give up easily.

That white chicken with the red leg ring means business.  She follows the food and she is tough.  Always there.

On a plus note, Taktur is not scared of chickens or birds under his legs and he is fairly unflappable (see what I did there? geddit?)

Our chickens are opportunists with no boundaries.  Drop it and lose it.

Chicken in a bucket, anyone?

She Ran Away

I believe in true honesty. I try not to sugar-coat this blog.  Warts and all is how it is.


I knew we had to keep little cattie in for at least two weeks but I always get so hot at night and I slightly opened the bedroom velux window (a window that is built into the roof and slants to open).

Little cattie made her escape first thing on Sunday morning and, since then, we have all been searching every shed, every hole in the ground, everywhere for her.  This is not made easy as we are coming up to lambing and I cannot take BeAnne with me, despite being the only one little cattie adored.  It would be wrong to do this.

I leave food in the two sheds by our house that she could get into and, the night before last, one lot was eaten which got my hopes up but then last night’s food was untouched.

Perhaps little cattie is making her way back to her previous owner who lives, as the crow flies, probably 3 miles away.  I really hope so.

On a positive note, where we are is perfect cat territory – endless bunnies, mice, birds and shelter everywhere.  There are no predators and outdoor cats do very well here.  Little cattie was, according to her previous owner, a keen hunter.  Our roads are not busy, either.

What can I say? It was totally my fault.  I feel gutted, a truly awful animal owner and nothing like this has ever happened to me before.  I have let little cattie down.  I think she saw us as her captors and not her friends, though she adored BeAnne.  I can only pray she is safe and well.

Her Maj is doing ok. She seems to have become used to being on her own and just follows one of us wherever we go.

So now you know.

I doubt anyone will ever trust us with either another cat or dog, to be honest.

Iacs Loves a Neep

If there is one thing I know – it is that Iacs, aka Mr Bimble, loves a neep so this morning I gave him half a neep for a present.

His little face lit up. He was very happy.

I thought by putting it in an empty silage box, he could get at it better.

Klængur approached to see what Iacs had got and to ask why hadn’t he been given his own neep.

To be fair, Klængur had all the root veg peelings to himself in a silage box, which he chose to ignore.  I had to gather them up later and distribute them fairly.

But Iacs is kind.  He let Klængur have the bits that dropped off his neep.

And Iacs took his neep outwith the box.

His method of eating his neep is to scrape his teeth along the top flat surface.

I hate them eating out of the mud but it was Mr Bimble’s choice.

And then Kappi turned up so the others ate up very quickly because Kappi would’ve had the lot – luckily for all he was the wrong side of the fence.

A neep is not a turnip. It is a swede.  A swede is a rotabagga or rutabaga.  So, now you know and Iacs loves them!

Sometimes if they are cheap in the supermarket, I buy a few to give to Iacs.  It is nice to see him smile.