Alone for a week.
The washing machine didnt actually quite know what hit it. Crammed full of bits and bobs and asked to wash non-stop for around 24 hours, im sure i can hear it panting in the kitchen. Hazel and Carolyn leave the farm at 2.30pm, the volvo making its way along the pothole strewn track (i think of the holes as speedbumps in mirror image). Flying first from Kirkwall in something resembling a cigar tube with rubber band powered propellers to Edinburgh, then hopefully in an aircraft slightly more substantial to Luton, where tomorrow they will finally fly to Salzburg and then 2 hours by coach to Mayrhofen to ski for a weeks well earned break.
I went skiing 10 years ago almost to the day. A school trip to Vermont in New England, USA leaving from Manchester on Valentines day to arrive in New York and then Boston, then bus for a few hours along the winding roads, Queechee (spelling??) gorge where Michael J Fox lives and on to Killington. Hills green with trees, picture book towns and villages and me learning to ski all seem so far away now. 10 years is suddenly a very long time, such a lot has happend in that time and i would never ever have put myself where i am now back then.
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First job this evening was to feed the sheep - easy enough, just follow the board with it all written on, the silence is deafening once everyone has a full stomach. Next i need to bolus two of the lambs - now these are no longer the small cute wooly things of a few weeks ago, but full on mini-sheep with the room temperature IQ to match their mums. I swear sheep get stupider as they get older. A bolus is like a big tablet and im not shitting you here. This thing is about an inch and a half long and i have to convince a lamb to swallow it. Chasing the little bugger around the pen (along with a load of others plus mums) is not much fun, but i manage to grab it in the end and curse it into the lower regions of hell reserved for naughty sheep, door to door salesmen and divers who wee all over the floor in my toilet.
Imagine wrestling with a set of wriggling bagpipes set to one note (baaaaaa!!!), legs, heads and the wrong end all seem to get everywhere, but in the end i manage to get said lamb to swallow the small breezeblock of a pill. Then i get to do it all again with another one who has the same complaint. Stepping over the gate and back into the central corridor i spot another lamb looking off colour. Bugger. I will keep an eye on that one and check in the morning, but i get the feeling it will be Helen vs sheep II tomorrow.
You want me to swallow what??!!
Stay tuned for the next exciting installment of Helen the farmer.
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Saturday
“Wonk”, said the goose, frequently as it turnes out. Its his breeding season, and thanks to a mix-up, Bruce and Google turned out to both be blokes, so no small feathery things from them. To say they hate eachother is wrong, Bruce hates Google with a passion, Google is very good at running away. Both of them have their wings clipped (or more accuratley one wing clipped - “so they fly in circles”, which says a lot about Hazels sense of humour), so they dont actually get airborne unless its blowing a hoolie. Both of them ended up in the utility room when i went out as they Bruce had google pinned in the corner outside. So now we have goose poo on the carpet in there.
Seeing a post on YD made me think along a rather sad train of thought. Someone i know is selling all their kit as they will never dive again due to health reasons. If he escapes with his life he will be a walking medical miracle.
On telling someone up here that i had been chatting to him, the reaction of “fook me, i thought he was dead” was actually pretty much mine when he suddenly appeared on msn again. It made me think about YD, the people that are on there and how much we really know about their lives. Im sure we lose members all the time, to accidents, disease or old age. But we never seem to know about it as so few couples frequent the forums, why would a next of kin know to come on to the forum and post an obituary?
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I go out and start to feed the sheep, filling buckets from the 1 tonne bag of food at the end of the shed, then pouring the required amount into the troughs and sliding them through into the pens. Half a dozen black heads descend into the galvanised metal holder, frantically shovelling the food down as fast as it will possibly go. Think 5 year olds at a birthday party eating smarties here.
I walk out to feed the outside animals, a bucket of grain for the ducks and geese, and a couple of other buckets for various fields of animals. Then back inside to feed the deer, check the milk machines and inside for a cup of tea.
I spend the day tidying up - im not saying where either because i know Austria has internet cafe’s and i want it to be a surprise for when Hazel and Carolyn come back…..plus i catch up on all my washing - i was nearly in an out of clothes situation there!
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Thinking about going on holiday, i had planned a break away to maybe the red sea or somewhere warm, maybe Tenerife or similar. But watching the sheer stress of H & C before they went made me think again. To be honest the whole stress factor would cancel out any enjoyment of the holiday. You spend a week before stressing over the things you need to do before you go, then a day before it all goes into overdrive. You worry like a worrying thing on national worry day. Passport, money, tickets, kit, clothes, is everything going to be Ok while im away? Just stop, right there. Thats enough. Stress limit reached, i would sit there and not go, tickets in hand and spend the week watching TV or playing on the net. You get to the airport, your flight is delayed, you miss a connection, they lose your baggage, when you get it its been used as a chock for a 747 and is now 6 inches narrower than when you packed it. Your transfer to the hotel is a bus which by rights should actually spontaneously combust due to the number of faults and is held together with spit, snot, rust and chewing gum. Hotel is full of chavs, old people smelling of wee or right next door to a building site.
Maybe i have been scarred by too many “Holiday Nightmare” programmes (none of which i can remember watching oddly enough), but i thikn i will stay put until the pull of blue water diving over-rides my desire to be stress free and maintain a BP of 110/55
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Its strange, sometimes you can never talk to someone for months and they suddenly you need to utilise their skills and so you drop them an email. Suddenly you are back into their lives, you catch up on what they have been up to, when mere months ago a day without speaking to them was rare.
That happened today. Someone i hadnt spoken to in such a long time, i needed her advice, and so an email was sent, and replied to. Strange, but we seemed to be back where we began, like the whole friendship was re-affirmed. I got sent this in an email years ago, usually this kind of stuff gets binned but somehow it makes supreme sense.
People come into your life for a reason, a season, or a lifetime. When you figure out which it is, this is to help you know exactly what to do.
When someone is in your life for a reason, it is usually to meet a need you have expressed outwardly or inwardly. They have come to assist you through a difficulty, to provide you with guidance and support, to aid you physically, emotionally, or spiritually. They may seem like a godsend, and they are. They are there for the reason you need them to be.
Then, without any wrongdoing on your part or at an inconvenient time, this person will say or do something to bring the relationship to an end. Sometimes they die. Sometimes they walk away. Sometimes they act up or out and force you to take a stand. What we must realize is that our need has been met, our desire fulfilled; their work is done. The prayer you sent up has been answered and it is now time to move on.
When people come into your life for a season, it is because your turn has come to share, grow, or learn. They may bring you an experience of peace or make you laugh. They may teach you something you have never done. They usually give you an unbelievable amount of joy. Believe it! It is real! But, only for a season.
Lifetime relationships teach you lifetime lessons; those things you must build upon in order to have a solid emotional foundation. Your job is to accept the lesson, love the person; and put what you have learned to use in all other relationships and areas of your life. It is said that love is blind but friendship is clairvoyant.
Thank you for being part of my life.
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Sunday
Sunlight streams in under the door of the bedroom in the Lodge and i stagger to the loo, get dressed and then out to check the sheep. Walking past the utility room i find the door open……and three dogs. Now im impressed they managed to get the door open, and even more impressed we still had all three of them.
Pete is the brains of the operation, always sticking his nose into everything but is also the worlds biggest wuss. Harry is top dog, despite being the smallest. He is set to scavenge mode permanently. If you cant find him, go find the grossest most minging thing possible and he will be there eating it. Yell at him and you get the “awww but im soooo cute” look, but he is fooling no-one. Buttons is the muscle of the bunch, i have never met such a stupid dog in my life. Total lights are on but no one is home, one braincell and it is set to “bounce”. You gotta love them 
The volume in the shed is phenomenal. Imagine every single animal all screaming at you FOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOD. Hazel can yell at them and they shut up, but with me they just snigger and baaa some more. Filling the troughs shuts them up and i get on with loading the hay racks and putting new straw in the pens.
I go out to feed the ducks and sheep and find the geese are now in a totally different place…..minus one who is doing the “urm, its quiet in here……” thing as it waddles around the track.
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The rest of the day is spent mooching around, watching TV, not doing anything really very constructive, but hey ho.
Then mother nature puts on a spectacular display for us…..this is why i love Orkney.
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Out to feed the sheeps for the final time, lots of hay packed into their racks and the milk machines cleaned out and re-filled. I get back inside to find that i have a pocket full of food…..oh dear.
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Monday
The day dawns gray and overcast and as i feed the animals i can feel the dampness in the air. Stomping around in my boiler suit with the bottom of the legs hacked off i carry buckets to the ewes in the far fields and then collapse infront of the TV with a cup of tea.
I decide to update the article on DIRX about pee valves, but thats all im saying on here because i know my mum and dad read this. So if you want to know, go search that forum and you will be enlightened. Mum, dad, dont even think about it!
The deer have a mad half hour, doing that silly bouncy run they do, all four feet off the floor at once.
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Sometimes it seems like the dive season is so far away, but then i can glance at the wall planner next to me here and see that in a few short weeks we will be out there, doing it for real. I am living the dream of so many people, to jack it all in, run away where no-one will ever find me and work on a boat with divers.
To say sod it all to posessions, materialistic “i wants” left behind. You suddenly learn the true value of things when you dont have them for a few months. Good shoes, a good jacket and a warm bed seem to be a priority as without them life can get pretty miserable. Oh, and comfy knickers.
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I forgot to blog - i did my food hygiene course last monday and passed the exam with full marks 
see, i knew there was a brain in there somewhere…..even if it is now full of “what temperature should a dairy and dessert fridge be at?”.
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And finally, i would like to point you at this website - www.underwaterlife.co.uk It is a blog by another diver who has taken some spectacular photographs lately - none diving related so dont get all huffy when there aint any dolphins or stuff like that. But if you appreciate good photography, then this is a good place to start.
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Tuesday.
I wake to the sound of the wind tugging at the wooden walls of the lodge, dragging me from the warm recesses of sleep and refusing to let me get back there. I try to read for a while, but to no avail. I admit defeat and make my way over to the house and bed down on the sofa under the nice fleecy blankets, but still sleep evades me. I end up watching the wrecked defectives on sky for an hour before i doze off again, only to wake up to the distant sound of the dogs whinging and barking. Its one of those annoying things that you can only hear them if you really listen….but once you have, you cant help but hear them. Not wanting any piles or puddles to deal with I get up and let them out, then try to sleep again, but quickly realise it just aint going to happen.
I get the bin bags ready to go out for the bin wagon which only comes to the end of the road to the farm…..i go and fetch the sack barrow to carry them easily and sight a large vehicle with an orange flashing light just dissappear behind the houses heading away from me. Bugger. Missed it.
I go on to feed everyone and then head back in. Later I take hay down to the ewes in the bottom field at lunchtime. Making my way back through the long byre i spot one of the lambs looking like a small football on legs. Fook. He has bloat - something nasty when milk ceases to be digested in his stomach and produces lots of gas. This can actually squish his heart and lungs and kill him, so im worried. I get inside and email Carolyn, but no reply. I go back out and he is even larger.
Arse.
I phone, but no answer. I call the vets, but no vets are in at the moment……ARGH!! I text Hazel and Carolyn to tell them to check the emails on the phone ASAP…..and finally get a reply. Gawd i was really starting to panic. Soon i call them in Austria and we decide to get the vet to make a visit to the farm to deal with the lamb. I dont have the liquid parafin needed to sort his tummy out, so soon enough the vet arrives and comes to see the patient. A stomach tube is passed down into the depths of his gurgling belly, and a large amount of liquid parafin is then syringed in. We put him in a seperate pen as he shouldnt eat anything for 24 hours now. Not a happy little lamb now!
I also find out tomorrow is actually bin day….so we have a phantom bin wagon…although it could have been a tractor, i just saw orange light on a big vehicle and assumed it was the bins…. oh well
I relax a little and decide to take advantage of the good light today….so here are some piccies.
Blllllllaaaarrrggghhhhhh said the stag….
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Just thought i would share the pics of the sunset with you too.
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Wednesday.
Im tired, but i know i have to get hay to all the sheep. I start to use the sack trolley to wheel the bales around whcih is far easier than lugging them by the strings. Soon enough i am done with feeding and carry on with the other jobs.
Feeling alone today.
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Thursday
The alarm on my phone cuts as subtley as a chainsaw through the protective barrier of sleep. I struggle out of bed and open the blind, find some clean clothes and out into the world, which has deteriorated since i last saw it. Wind howls from the east, horizontal rain smears the windows and the dead stalks of last years grasses lie arrow straight, quivering in the gale.
I go to feed the sheep, they are vocal to say the least. Joe, the lamb who tried to become an ovine blimp, is still very noisy, but less than he was, having baaaaa’d himself totally hoarse now he is in solitary confinement. Give him a metal cup to rake along the bars of his pen….maybe i will go stencil some little arrows on him to complete the look of prison. He is back onto restricted milk feeds today, 4x a day i will go and give him 300ml of what put him in there in the first place.
Rodney arrives to help shift a dead sheep - something that always happens over the winter. I tie up the sheeps legs with rope and we hoist her using the tractor, uneremoniously depositing her into the pit used to dispose of dead animals. After he has left i continue on with putting hay out for everyone, the animals outside being very grateful for it. Eventually i can retreat back to the warmth of the house, and a cup of tea to thaw me out.
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This week, i have mostly been listening to…..Dido. A real blast from the past for me, her first album kept me reasonably sane while i was at uni studying for my finals. Sharing a house with three guys, all of whom were very into R n B, rap and drum n bass, i needed something to stop me thinking about people getting “caps popped in their asses” lyrics and videos straight from cheap porn films. Dido filled that space, her meaningful lyrics and unique voice evoke memories of being locked away from the world, cramming my head with as much knowledge as possible and listening to the busses surge past the window outside. I dont have her first album here - i have no idea where it is, other than south somewhere. The current one is Hazel’s copy. I also like her version of “see you when you’re 40″ live which is stunning, but since i dont have itunes, i cannot buy it so have to listen to it online.
Strange really, sounds and smells awaken parts of your memory once forgotten. At the moment it is my time at universtity which is paramount in the old grey matter. The people i met, the influence they had on my life and how i never seem to hear from any of them anymore, us all having spread out over the globe, some having started families, others having got jobs in the environment sector, some of us not. Strange really, reminds me of a dandylion. The flower grows as we did, blooms, becomes bright in the sun. It does the best it can, and then seeds, spreading those tiny parachutes all over the meadows of the world.
I can recall being on a transfer flight, ironically more or less 10 years ago to the day, somewhere over northern USA, heading back to New York from Boston. Below us the concrete snakes of the roads wind between the tree covered mountains, pinprick cars move totally unaware i am above them watching. I watch two cars pass each other on the road and ponder who they are, where they are going and why. I doubt they would ever remember making the journey, let alone passing a car going the other way. But i do.
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[David Attenborough mode on]
Entering the quiet stillness of the lair, we hope to approach the hibernation site undetected. The cylinders prefer darkness and quiet for this yearly process and have found a suitable nest here in the GP shed, in Northfield, Holm, Orkney. Keeping myself concealed, cunningly disguised as a farmer to prevent attack if i am detected, i can get remarkably close.
The cylinders enter the shed in early November, having migrated from their summer residence in Stromness aboard the Stormdrift and now the Valkyrie. During their active season they make up to three journeys a day to the bottom of Scapa Flow and the surrounding waters, allowing divers to utilise their ability to hold gas. Towards the end of the season they become tired and in need of their annual refurbishment which occurs immediatley after hibernation ceases, but soldier onwards until it is time for them to leave the calm waters of the harbour.
Mating is yet to be recorded, but we hope to see several young cylinders appear in March, firstly 3l ones, known as ponies. These can then, if fed and cared for properly, in time become 7l’s and eventually the lucky one or two will become an Ali 80.
[/David Attenborough mode off]
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You would have thought nature would have made geese waterproof? Nope. Here is one very soggy goose teehee.
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Friday
I wake on the sofa in the house, having bottled out of walking over to the lodge in the rain last night. It wasnt so much rain, as solid water with air slots cut in it.
Busy day ahead of me, i start on my jobs i wanted to get done - mostly tidying up the messy bits of the farm. This is going to take me a bit of time…uh oh.
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I smell. I dont mean just whiff a bit, i mean i reek of sheep, deer and anything else yucky. There is hay in my hair, mud under my nails and christ knows what down my bra (but it itches like hell, probably straw). I have blisters on my fingers from carrying buckets (and i worked so damned hard on my callouses last year god dammit), and managed to stab myself in the finger with my knife while cutting bailer twine on a bale of hay. I think a bath may be in order…..someone phone the water company and warn them about what is on its way!
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Have been mucking around with the camera today. So here you go.
And you may well wonder, what the effing hell is that…..well, its a glass bead that i wear around my neck. Just like me, its rather strange and looks like different things from different angles.
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Saturday
You know you get those moments when you do something, and suddenly the next few seconds pan out in front of you like a long straight road. They contain nothing but pain and panic and wondering when its all going to stop. Well i had one of those today.
Standing on the wobbly bale of straw, i reach up to the one several layers above me, fingers seeking out the narrow blue bailer twine holding it together. Eventually i find it and pull. Movement above me catches my eye, the next three layers are coming towards me with that inevitable movement you get when something heavy is finally giving up to gravity and there is bugger all you can do to stop it. I move as quick as i can but one of them knocks me off the bale and to the floor, i feel the impacts of the bales hitting the one on top of me and then it stops. I open my eyes to be nose to nose with a cat, who is marvelling in the new playground i have accidentally made for him. My fall was cushioned by the huge pile of loose hay i had swept up a week before, meaning it was like landing in a big itchy matress. Hay bales are not actually that heavy, so all it did was wind me. Im glad i swept the floor the other day!
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Sunday
Right, i need everything to be ok for when the girls get back, so i get up early. I have words with the sheep, along the lines of “none of you wooly buggers die, ok!”. i hope they listened to me, i really do.
A bad omen is that i find one of the Shropshire lambs cast in its feed trough - head bent up behind it so it was totally stuck. If i hadnt spotted it, or it had happened last night, it could well have died. Oh dear, i hope the rest of the day picks up.
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This is what Andy brought me back from Australia. Somehow i think he knows my sense of humour far too well
Bald sheep
Ok, its February and we have just had about 12 sheep sheared. Why? Well they are the show group and their fleeces need to be in top condition for the events, so they get sheared early to give them the maximum time to re-grow it nicely. I somehow got the feeling they were less than impressed with the whole situation, along the lines of “i spent all year growing this damn wool for when its fecking freezing and now you bastards come and shave it off!”
