Anti-mimesis is a philosophical position that holds the direct opposite of Aristotelian mimesis. Its most notable proponent is Oscar Wilde, who opined in his 1889 essay The Decay of Lying that, “Life imitates Art far more than Art imitates Life”

….. as I often say to myself (not).

This is one of my favourite pictures that hangs in our house.

Not-so-little Monster has everyone organised into doing what he wants except for being fed every time he shouts.  We are now immune to his nagging.

Monster almost appears thinner.  I would even go so far as to say the incredible weight seems less.  If he is really starving he goes and finds himself a couple of rabbits, a small bird and some mice for dessert.

Monster still likes a cardboard box.

He finds them, well, restful.

Dear Monster – I feel he has been with us forever.

And Lambie has decided he has forgiven me and returned to his house for some of his speshul carrots, that he was given by Transition Turriefield to cheer him up.

When visitors come to see the Minions, they don’t usually come back.   We are a brief encounter on the off the beaten track unofficial things-to-do in Shetland circuit.

But today we were re-visited, which made it a special day (as well as being given two types of delicious cake and some beautiful plants).

The re-visitor knew the drill and what to expect.

The Minions gave it their all.

And I think it was appreciated, if not enjoyed, even.

Our visitor brought her daughter so that she too could enjoy the hands-on Minion experience.

I asked each visitor which Minion they wanted to take home, if it were possible.  Newt was chosen to “go south” as was Lilja.

These days Lilja makes a very good honorary Minion.  So that’s the biggest and the smallest packing their imaginery red spotty hankies.

I think these visitors will be back, somehow.  They hear the call of the Minions.

I have been noticing recently on my daily physio walks with the sheep that Lambie has been shaking his head a lot.  Upon examination, I found this worrying granula growth above his eartag.

I immediately panicked and spent a good day trying to get a halfway decent photo of the back of Lambie’s lug to send to the vets for their advice.

I sent the photo over to the vet and a reply duly came back with the words “to try blue spray initially but the tag may need to come out. No need for anitbiotics at this time.”

So Daisy and I spent a few mornings letting Lambie into the house to be rugby tackled into a headlock while one of us sprayed blue spray on his lug.  It was not an easy task.

Things did not seem to be getting better so, after my chat with the shearers yesterday, I made the decision to have a better look and possibly cut out the ear tag.

Lambie refused to be caught so we had to lure him into the house with Daisy sitting on the sofa noisily eating Lambie’s animal shaped biccies at him!

Another rugby tackle/headlock and I saw that the eartag had been pushed through the hole and it was looking nasty.  So we cut the tag out, cleaned the hole with blue spray and returned Lambie to his field.

I went over later to have a wee chat with him.

I was grudgingly tolerated but he was not a happy Lambie.

I think Lambie must’ve rubbed the tag out of position.

I noticed later on, when I let the Boyzens out of their field this evening, that Lambie is not shaking his head as much so hopefully it will all calm down now.

I doubt Lambie will ever come into the house again, which is a pity because I want to blue-spray his lug daily.

This morning I heard outside shouting, baaing, barking and roaring (quads).

A neighbour rang my doorbell to ask if my sheep were the three (fat, though he didn’t actually say it but probably thought it) ones in my field.  I said they were and moved them into a small paddock which they can’t escape from.  They get very agitated or over-excited and silly on days like these.

My neighbours were ‘caaing‘ in the hill sheep to sort, shear and drench.

Armed with chocolate bars, I popped over to where everyone was working to ask if they would just run round my field with the quad and dogs as ‘Bert’s hill girlfriend had been living there for a few months.  She needed to go back to her hill flock.  I also picked their brains for some sheeple husbandry advice.

They kindly agreed and I left them to their very hard work.  I wandered about a bit taking photos.

Shearing the hill sheep in Shetland is done yearly.

All hill sheep are pure Shetlands.

No other sheep (including crosses) are allowed to graze in the scattald (open hill).

The sheep were sorted according to their age, sex and, I guess, their future.

Anway, it was a nice day for shearing.

I didn’t stay long – there was work to be done and I would just get in the way.

Today we had a visitor so once I had collected her from the bus, I dragged her round to meet the Minions.

The Minions love new people and are always very keen on their close-ups.

Perhaps a bit too keen.

Kisses were duly requested, distributed and accepted.

Obviously the #shetlandponiesinsweaters were introduced.  First Fivla.

And then Vitamin.  Both love meeting their fans.  Never a chore, always a pleasure.

We quickly checked the Icelandic laydees and then headed off home for a quick cup of tea.  Out again, and first up, of course, was Hjalti.

My visitor had admitted to being Taktur’s biggest fan and so he duly looked interested and beautiful.

Taktur was doing well until his son tried to get in on the act.

Words were said.

Hjalti is ever the photo-bomber!

The three youngsters were like a Hydra or Cerberus.  I have yet to decide.

Everyone said hello and I felt very proud of them all.

My visitor was staying for the day and, as an avid blog reader, she offered to come on my physio walk.

Obviously, we had company of the woolly and furry variety.

And everyone was on their best behaviour.

We all enjoyed meeting our visitor and I hope she enjoyed her day out.