Sheep at mass

Today I went to mass. Big deal you might say, well it is a big deal for someone. On the previous weekend over €3000 was collected in the parish. At least that's what it said in the A3 page that they print out for all the congretation or sheep. Maybe they collected more, after all it was cash, who knows? The reason I went was because it was an anniversary mass for my wife's cousin who died maybe 4 or 5 years ago. It's a bit like a rap song where a gangsta can pay a rapper to mention them in their latest tune. Only this time it's the dead person's relatives who pay the priest (rapper) to mention the deceased (gangsta) in the mass (toon). It must be a pretty good deal for the priest because quite a few dead people got a mention today, not just once, but three times. I asked once how much it cost to get a mention and I was told €50. But that was a few years ago and with inflation and the cost of living going up it's probably doubled since then. So as I sat there standing up or sitting down or even occassionally kneeling with all the other sheep I was contemplating why would an Indian priest be saying mass in Ireland. Perhaps it's because of all the CC scandals nobody in Ireland wants to be a priest anymore. Just this week there's a new story about abuse in schools run by the CC. Already 160 cases have come forward. I said abuse, I should have said sexual abuse, but sex is still a bit of a taboo subject in Ireland, especially if a priest is involved. Back when these people were kids being abused nobody talked about it anyway. If somebody complained the priest was quietly transferred to carry on their evil deeds in some other parish. I don't go up for communion at mass, I have a slight problem believing that Christ's body has been turned into a bit of hard flat bread. Instead I watch the sheep blindly following the sheep in front up to the front of the church and calmly returning to their pew. The people are mostly old, in their 70s, with a few people with young families. Very few teenagers or twenty-somethings. Not one attractive looking woman that I'd like to shag. A familiar song from my childhood is played at the end of mass. Joy to the world or something like it. The theme from 'sean the sheep' tv programme would be more appropiate in my humble opinion. The woman in front of me has left her pamphlet on the pew and I read that the relics of saint Bernadette are doing a tour of Ireland. Jesus H Christ this is the sort of stuff that I thought stopped in the middle ages. OK I can accept that Oasis are going on tour next year, but the bits of a saint's body going on tour is something new to me. I'm almost tempted to go just to see what sort of sheep go to see a saint's relics on tour.

Selling the house I grew up in.

The house I grew up in is going to fall down unless I sell it. It's a Georgian house, over 200 years old and it's been empty for about 5 years. It's also huge by today's standards, there are probably lots of families living comfortably in apartments that are smaller than the largest room in the house. It was built by the Anglo Irish landlords who basically stole the land from the Irish people and then rented it back to them and lived lavishly while doing it. It was a beautiful house, even as recently as the 1980's it was an attractive house. But now it's a bit like a wealthy, old woman who has fallen on hard times, imagine old Miss. Havisham in Dickens' book Great Expectations. Complete with spiders and dust. My Great grandfather bought it when the Anglo landlords moved back to England just over 100 years ago, after the 1916 rising they could see the writing on the wall. Around here a lot of the 'big' houses were burnt to the ground during the civil war. But ours wasn't touched. Or torched. Because so many of these houses were destroyed, they are now pretty rare, they're also protected or listed buildings. This is a bit of a blessing and a curse for their owners. Any maintenance or renovation work has to be done to heritage standards. This means original style everything, no pvc gutters or windows here. It's also expensive to do this work, properly. It's been empty since my parents moved out about 5 years ago. Some of the windows were broken when kids broke in. I used to keep a heater on during the winter, not anymore though. It's too expensive. Every room bar a couple of smaller ones has a fireplace. Most are blocked up now, my parents installed central heating in half the house in the 1970's. The other half of the house was just used for storage. Whenever a grand aunt or grandparents died their junk moved into our house. Old china plates and mahogany sideboards and narrow beds that nobody really wants anymore. Unless of course they have just bought a big, empty Georgian mansion. I don't know what to do with the old furniture, the contents belong to my mother. She was born during WW2. Like everyone else born at that time, she is a hoarder. You know those de-clutter tv programmes? The ones where the, usually, mentally ill person has a house stacked to the ceiling with 'stuff' with little rabbit runs through the stacks, that sort of hoarder. We spent a week mucking out 35 cubic meters of junk last summer, hard but satisfying work. We didn't tell my mother we were doing it, she would have been skip diving. I still have a lot of work to do outside, cutting back overgrown vegetation, perhaps a few new panes of glass before viewing by prospective buyers can start. Today an auctioneer was out taking photos for a brochure. At least the smell of damp old clothes and mattresses has now mostly gone. I've started to appreciate where the heritage people are coming from. The gloss paint applied to some of the walls is cracked and peeling because the walls can't breathe under the paint. But rooms with the original white wash lime are still in good condition.

Wish me luck with the sale and if you know any wealthy people looking for a big old house in Ireland show them this. Update; July 2023Well the house has been sold, I wish the new owner all the best as they go to work restoring the old lady to her former glory.

Orion's Belt

Have you ever stared up (sorry about the pun) at the night sky on a clear, cold night? Wondered what else is out there 6 or 700 light years away? Or better still have you ever looked up at the night sky while holding the hand of the one you love? Years ago I pointed to Orion's Belt with a young woman from Germany, and told her whenever I saw it in future I would think of her, I still do. Years later, as an old soul I met another woman from Germany, we were friends for a while, then we lost touch. I told her about Orion's Belt, and about picking it. She said nobody had ever done that for her. Like a fool I never took the hint, but if I had a second chance I would have chosen the plough to remind her of an Irish plough Jockey. Last week my son's German girl friend flew back to Germany. After collecting him from the house she stayed at, we drove home, I wondered would they ever see each other again. It was late, after midnight and as I let the dogs out I looked up at the night sky. The clouds parted, and revealed Orion's Belt. I wondered what sort of incomprehensible power is this?

Farming organically.

After a couple of years thinking about it, weighing up the pros and cons, farming without using artificial nitrogen, growing a crop of oats successfully without any chemical inputs and an unsuccessful crop of barley I finally took the plunge and signed up to go organic for 5 years, provided that my farm passes inspection. I won't know for definite until September or October. All the 'experts' are telling us that everyone who applies will get in, but they have a bit of a financial motive to say that, everyone who applies to farm organically has to pay a non-refundable €350 to cover the cost of inspection, registration etc. So if there is 400 of us applying that's a nice little pot of €140,000 to keep a few people in a job somewhere. The deadline for applying to join was 5pm on 30th April, we don't know yet how many applied, last time that applications were being accepted 60 people didn't get in, so they'll get first priority. I will have to farm organically first for 5 months until a decision is made and then until April 2023 in conversion before I get certified. My first job as an organic farmer yesterday was to spread 1500-2000 gallons of slurry per acre on red clover silage sward and the 'traditional hay meadow'. The THM can't be cut until 15th of July. The red clover and ryegrass will probably be cut twice this summer, it has just been grazed. The 'experts' tell us that red clover dies if it is cut too low (lower than 7 cms) or if it is grazed too tight. My first experiment as an organic farmer is to investigate what happens if red clover gets grazed hard. I put the cows on to graze red clover to 3 different post grazing heights, high, medium and low. High is about 10cm, mediun is 7cm and low is about 3 cms. I'll have a look at these plots every Saturday for the next few weeks to see what happens.

What changes will I have to make? Cow numbers are going to be cut by 30% and there will be no more bull beef. All the bulls on the farm are going to be sold ASAP as they are too old to catrate them organically. Instead male calves will be castrated at 7 days with a rubber ring and sold as forward stores at about 18 months. I'm not sure yet what to do with female calves, some will be retained for breeding. I hope to finish some at about 20 months. Selling them at 1 year old to other farmers for breeding is potentially another market too. With vet supervision (€!) we are allowed treat animals for parasites or if they get sick, but withdrawal periods for drugs are double or in some cases treble what it says on the can/bottle. We won't be able to feed non-organic feed to organic cattle. Housing This is going to be the hardest for me I think. I have cubicles for the cows, but they need to be bedded for organic, and cattle need a bedded lieback area. Where to put this lieback area could be a problem for me. We are allowed use woodchip as bedding, this is great as I bought a woodchipper late last year. Cropping Forestry won't be included in the organic system. I'm already growing red clover for silage. I plan to grow some cereals, oats and perhaps rye in rotation with the red clover. The oats can be sold as a cash crop, apparently organic breakfast cereals are a good market. Approx half my farm is permanant grass which can't be ploughed as it's too rocky/wet. Maintaining fertility is going to be a problem for me, my P levels are adequate but K levels are low. If P and K levels were both low, importing slurry or dairy sludge would be allowed, but I only need K. Perhaps keserite, the raw material for potash fertiliser can be used. Bit of a catch 22 situation here I'm afraid. I'm looking forward to meeting the challenges of organic farming. I've always been interested in what happens to plants, how they grow etc. but now I'm looking forward to learning about what happens to the soil. How far do different plant roots go down for example? Can I grow crops by strip seeding instead of ploughing? Can I reduce my carbon footprint? Can I make better use of my resources, soil, cattle, buildings and machinery etc.?

Pruning Norway Spruce part 1

Woman in chains

Just two weeks ago I was unloading a load of straw. I had to manually push 30 4x4 bales off a lorry. It was hard physical work, as the bales were wedged on the load. I got a bit short of breadth doing it, but at the time didn't think too much about it.

That afternoon I used the tractor and loader to move the 30 bales from the roadside to a stack in the yard. Later my calf muscle was sore, I estimated that over the afternoon I had pressed the clutch pedal about 300 times bringing in the bales. The tractor has 130 hp, so the springs in the clutch are pretty stiff. That evening I was breathless lifting 25kg bags of meal to feed cattle, I was glad to be finished work for the day. That night I again got breathless going upstairs to bed.

Next morning I got up early, as it had rained heavily all night the cows had to be moved to a fresh block of grass. My wife gave me a lift near to where the cows were that night, it was raining heavily and by the time I got back to the house for breakfast I was really short of breadth, again. I took it easy for the day apart from going to the mill for half a ton of meal for the bulls, again throwing the bags into the back of the jeep I became short of breadth. That was Friday of the bank holiday Paddy's day weekend. Any time I exerted myself I was finding it hard.

I took it easy for the rest of the weekend, on Monday I tried to do some work in the yard, the bulls had to be mucked out and gates had to be hung in a shed to do it safely. I managed to hang two gates, but it had taken me 2 hours to do what would normally take me 20 minutes, I was shagged. I went home and called the out of hours GP as it was a bank holiday.

The doc suspected that I had a clot in my lung, it had started in my left calf, hence the pain the previous Thursday. There was an intermittent pain high up in my chest too, it felt like someone poking me hard in the chest with their finger. I had no choice, off to the regional hospital 35 miles away. 

Being a bank holiday Monday the A&E dept. was bedlam. I got seen by a triage nurse pretty quickly after arriving at 4.30pm. It would be after 1am on Tuesday morning before I'd see a doctor, 5am before I got a trolley (not a bed) and 8pm Tuesday evening before I actually got a bed. 

There were a lot of cops passing in and out of outpatients, sometimes they had a prisoner with them, sometimes not. They were going out for a smoke, one guy was in pjs. must have been on a witness protection programme or something. There was a big revolving door at the exit, and the prisoner got in the same section as me at one stage in the revolving door, the look of panic on the cop's face was priceless. Didn't know I had such a bad reputation.

The other prisoner going in and out for a smoke was a young blond woman, they had a 4 ft chain on her wrist attached to either of the two prison wardens with her. This woman was really striking, not that tall, her long hair was tied in a ponytail, she had a scorpion tattoo on the nape of her neck. After I got my trolley bed she was in the same ward and used to pass me a few times a day with her guardian in tow. I used to nod to her and she'd smile or say hi as she passed. 

I didn't see her again after I got moved to a real bed. I stayed in hospital for a few days getting tests and scans done. There was a big delay getting an MRI done. Eventually on the Thursday it got done and a lovely doc called Lamese looked after me. When I was leaving the hospital she surprised me by shaking hands with me, I was surprised because I didn't think doctors shook hands because of hygiene and all that jazz. Turns out I had a clot on my lung, they gave me drugs to help break it down. I'm still on drugs today to prevent another clot forming, and it looks like I'll be on them for life.

About a year later I was paying for diesel at a local filling station and there behind the till was the woman in chains. No chains this time, just a big friendly smile. She had more tattoos on her arms and I complimented her on them, She spoke English with an Eastern European accent. I've been back to the filling station a few times since, but haven't seen her. I hope she's ok and able to keep out of trouble. 

I hate March

If I die of natural causes it will be in the month of March. It's when I am at my lowest ebb, most stressed, even though it is spring, for me the winter isn't over yet. Last year there was a heavy fall of snow in early March after a fairly mild if wet winter. Same again this year, no snow and hardly any frost all winter then snow again in late February and early March.

Our seasons have changed, there can be no doubt about it, plum trees flowered in January this year, but now it is colder than it was in January, some buds are struggling to burst on the hawthorn, but it is like as if spring has been put on hold for now.

Our birds are finding it tough too. Yesterday as I drove into my yard I noticed a sparrow hawk perched on the gable over the front door, he didn't fly away as I approached, I say 'he' because males are smaller. He had no fear of me, if anything he looked hungry and miserable. We try and have an unkempt garden to provide food and shelter for wildlife, perhaps he had his eye on a blackbird or the pair of wood pigeon who have started nesting in the ivy on the garden wall. If our top predator birds like a sparrow hawk are having trouble surviving then it is a good indicator that the whole ecosystem is in trouble. I see hawks regularly flying along the road about 6 feet above the ground then diving through a field gateway, or hovering on a stiff breeze watching their prey, but I rarely see them near the house or in the garden, but that's the second time I saw a hawk in a garden this week. 

Occasionally I see a barn owl too at dusk, I believe he roosts in the roof of an old house in the yard, s/he's the reason I don't lay rat bait in the yard, but I haven't seen it since the autumn. There are also some pheasants who gather up the scraps of meal after feeding cattle. For anyone who thinks wild game meat hasn't been fed GM food, I hate to tell you but you might want to re-think that one next time you are ordering something gamey in a fancy Dublin restaurant.

Pruning spruce trees.

If any readers have tried to walk through a young spruce plantation before the first thinning you'll know what I'm writing about. I planted 12 acres of trees 15 years ago. Before planting we put horses on the land to graze it bare, the reason for this was so that the guy digging the drains and mounding the spoil could see the lines of mounds easily and make neat straight lines of trees which were planted on the mounds.

There is a shallow drain every 12m with 6 mounds between the drains, which gives me a row of trees every 2m, but along the rows they can be as close as 1.7m apart. There are at least 2,500 trees per ha, it's basically impenetrable to humans right now. Eventually through periodic thinning the final crop of trees will be just 400 per ha. The first thinning will remove 1 row in 7 to allow access.

I'm trying to make a path perpendicular to the 1 in 7 rows before they get taken out. I use a secateurs and a pruning saw to cut the dead branches off the line of trees from ground level to about 2m high. When I started I didn't really know what I was doing, I was kneeling on the ground to cut the bottom branches off first, then alternatively using the secateurs and saw I would work my way up the tree, using the saw for the thicker branches. I was getting about 5 trees done per hour!

Now I think I've mastered it, here's how I do it.

• I put my hood up
• I push my way in past the branches, secateurs in my right hand
• I prune a few light branches approx. 1,2-1.4m above the ground
• Now that I have a bit of space I swap the saw for the secateurs
• I'm right handed so I saw with my right and hold branches with my left
• The path I've already cut is behind me with the branches I've cut to my left
• I start cutting branches on the left hand side of the tree, working my way down the tree holding the cut branches and the branch I'm cutting in my left hand. This ensures a clean cut
• I cut about a quarter of the branches in a line down the left side of the tree, I dump the cut branches to my left
• I take a step forward, working clockwise around the tree I cut another line down the tree, this time starting at head height now that I have room to work.
• I work my way round the tree, dumping cut branches away from what will be my path. 
• On the larger trees, if the branches are dead I cut them off above my head as far as I can reach.
• I put the saw in the scabbard and trim small branches with the secateurs, at this stage all the raindrops and loose needles have fallen off so I drop the hood to help me cool off as I tidy the light branches
• Then it's on to the next tree, secateurs in hand, hood up. 

If I come across a  wolf (forked) tree I skip pruning it, perhaps just cutting the side branches off it in the pathway or instead prune the tree to the right instead. I can now prune a tree to 2m in approx 2 and a half minutes.
 Some of the 15 year old Sitka spruce are 20cm at dbh, the Norway spruce are a bit smaller at 15cm dbh for the best of them. By giving myself access I am able to select the better trees for high pruning to 2.7m this should help give me higher quality, knot free sawlogs in the final 400 trees per ha.

Just behind the pruned tree is a drain from which the soil for the mounds was taken before planting.

First few branches cut off from 1.2m to ground level.

About 1/4 of the branches that I'll be taking off are removed at this stage. Now that I have some space I can work up to about 2m. 

Just a few left, cut branches are on left, pathway on right.

I cut just outside the branch collar so that the bark will quickly grow over the wound.

Finally I tidy up with a secateurs, taking care to keep the blade next to the tree. This means that the part of the branch bruised by the anvil part of the secateurs is removed, again helping the bark to heal quicker.

1 tree done.

This tree will hopefully be one of the final crop and has been pruned to 3.5m 

Bit more reading here;

https://www.forestry.gov.uk/PDF/FCBU035.pdf/$FILE/FCBU035.pdf

Winter has Arrived

I have a cold. I got wet moving electric fences last Saturday. I feel like I have the flu, but it's probably just a head cold not man-flu. I'm dosing myself with lemsip with extra honey added to the hot water 3 times a day, if there were oranges in the house I'd be dosing myself with them as well. Even though I am allergic to oranges. Sometimes I wonder am I just allergic to the chemicals they use to grow the oranges instead of being allergic to the actual oranges themselves?

Did you ever notice if you peeled an orange and threw the skin on the yard how long it lasts? Months later the feckin thing would still be there to annoy you like a plastic wrapper. I've never seen organic oranges for sale either.

Winter is officially here, we've had halloween, the remains of the pumpkin have been placed in front of the bulls but they are very slow to eat it. They prefer the GM maize, GM soya, beet pulp, maize distillers(GM) and rapeseed meal mixed with native barley, and wheat all camouflaged  with a bit of molasses and biscuit meal. Sometimes I think us farmers are dumb.

We grow top quality barley, and instead of keeping it ourselves to finish cattle, we haul it to the miller, get paid €200 a ton for it, then buy it back, mixed with a load of mostly US food/distiller by-products and pay over €300 a ton for it AND pay haulage both ways. Not only that but we have to sell the finished product to meat processors who have thousands of finishing cattle in feedlots mostly owned by Irish farmers who have gone broke trying to finish cattle. As I scratch my head I can feel my blood pressure rising.

I'm off now to put 75kg of by-products in front of my 15 finishing bulls, who let's face it when they're sold will just about pay the miller and the bank repayments for this year. Talk about hamsters on wheels......

Just to end on a good note I bought a second-hand Barbour wax coat on ebay for £13 + postage so at least when I'm feeding cattle for the rest of this winter I'll be dry, and hopefully won't get wet by rain again. Thanks doggywoof, fixed that zip with 5 minutes of filing and due to my cold I can't smell your dog off it either.
 https://www.ebay.co.uk/itm/MENS-BARBOUR-KHAKI-ZIP-UP-WATERPROOF-WAX-OUTDOORS-JACKET-XL-XLARGE-BROKEN-ZIP/332858166448?ssPageName=STRK%3AMEBIDX%3AIT&_trksid=p2057872.m2749.l2649

Drought

We are having the hottest, driest summer here since 1976. I can remember it being too hot to go outside in '76. This time I stay in for a siesta in the afternoon, work in the early morning and start a bit of work again in the evening around 7. It's strange that peak temperature is around 5pm. I thought it would be earlier, around 2pm.

We've been going to the beach at the weekends to cool off. The Atlantic is bloody freezing. Perhaps it is the big difference in the air temperature compared to the water and our white bodies are having a problem coping with the difference. But I suspect the Atlantic is colder than it used to be, there is a lot of northern ice after melting in the last few years. perhaps that is why we are getting wetter winters, snow in spring and hotter drier summers.

On the farm things are ok, cattle are content with dry grass, water and some shade for the hottest part of the day. We have enough grass for 3 more weeks, hopefully it will rain. but there is a soil moisture deficit of approx 90 mm.- not good. I heard the sheriff called to one of the neighbours about his water bill, he's got a month to gather up some money. We still have to make pit silage, we have about 40 bales made. If it stays dry I'll wholecrop the barley and pit that. Fuck the grain merchant. He'll survive, I have to do what I have to do to survive too. I'm thinking of putting in some fodder crops like rape/turnip/kale etc. But if I put them in too early they may not grow, if I leave it too late the yield won't be there. I sowed bird cover before the 15th June and it has only germinated in a few really wet places.

Money wise we are ok, I sold some cull cows and they brought in €1100 each. But cattle prices are crashing since. England are out of the world cup and they were eating a lot of steaks and burgers every time they had a game.

Longer term I think we will be better off with a lower stocking rate. This reduces pressure on feed but also reduces sales. But when the bottom line is calculated out we could be better off producing less as climate changes.

 

Life is short.

Life is short. I found an empty Tayto crisp packet in the jeep between the front seats. It had been there for a week. I remember the day my son and I bought the crisps, it was a Monday in February, cold but dry. I had picked him up from school that day, we drove from the school to another town about 15 miles from the school to collect some cattle ration.

He was hungry, and so was I, he had had a school lunch and I'd had nothing since breakfast, so we went into Dunnes with a fiver to see what could we get. We got a bag of bread rolls, a small block of cheddar cheese that was on special offer because it had almost reached the best before date, and a small packet of sliced ham. When we got to the till there was enough left over for one packet of crisps to share between the two of us, my son ran back to get them, while he was gone I said we were having lunch on the cheap to the lady behind the till.

We didn't have a shopping bag so just carried the food back to the jeep, put it all up on the dashboard. I took out my pocket knife, cleaned it and cut a roll in half, showed my son how to slice open the pack of cheese and cut a slice at the same time while he peeled open the ham. I put two slices of cheese on the bread, a slice of ham and folded the bread roll closed and handed it to him. Then I repeated the process for myself. It tasted just lovely, sometimes a simple meal is the best.

On the way home we ate the crisps between us, the cheese and ham went into the fridge when we got home, the rolls just sat on the breakfast bar. When my wife got home, our son told her about the cheap lunch. I think she was shocked that I fed our son almost out of date cheese, cheap bread rolls and ham that wasn't bordbia approved. Jesus, I thought good job she didn't find out about using the pocket knife.

My Dad hadn't been too well that weekend, he had fallen a few times so that night I went for the first time to help my mum put him to bed. When we had gotten him up on the stairlift, undressed and into bed I said to him goodnight, I love you. He mumbled something in return, I didn't quite catch it, something like ya you do, or ya I know you do.

The next day was Tuesday, my dad stayed in bed all day. My mother called the GP and he came to visit him in the afternoon, said he had a chest infection. While my mother went out to the local pharmacy he died, alone, in bed.

We buried him on the Saturday. The following week I found the empty crisp packet, I remember thinking when I bought the crisps my dad was still alive, and now he is dead and buried never to be seen again and yet here is this empty crisp packet that has lasted longer than my father. Life is short, make the most of it.

New iphone

Yesterday I got a new phone. It's an apple iphone SE, my first iphone. But I don't think I'll use it just yet. My old Nokia still works fine, even though it has been dropped countless times, it still does most of what I want it to do, calls, texts, and the odd grainy photo. The only thing that doesn't work is the torch, but I bought an LED torch for 1.99 so that will do instead. I don't need it to access the internet, even though I get 2 gigs of data every month with my package. Yesterday the phone shop wasn't too busy, well it wasn't busy at all actually because I was the only customer there. So I asked the sales assistant how big is 2 gigs in layman's terms?

It's about 1 hour on youtube. WTF use is that?  I was telling her I was going to keep it in the box, will it be ok to leave it there until I need it? Sure, it's your phone, when her Dad gets a new upgrade he gives it to one of his kids. I'm thinking of doing the same, give it to my 11 year old for christmas. She said you could sell it if you want, loads of people do,it's your phone. So when I got home with my new phone I looked it up on a few selling sites, the phone that I paid €69 for can be sold for something like €250 to €400.

Why? Let's go back in time a bit. About a month ago I got a text saying I was due an upgrade. I went on to my 'service' provider's website, got chatting on line to somebody from India about my upgrade, went over and back to a few review sites on the net, then looked up prices etc. I discovered that the iphone SE has a 12 megapixel camera, that's cool I thought, my Nikon digital slr only has 10 megapixels, it's also slightly smaller than more modern phones (remember I still have a Nokia) so that helped. I did no more about it. But for about two weeks my old reliable Nokia became very unreliable, dropped calls, my wife asking why don't you answer your phone etc. missed calls. I smelt a rat.

Then about 10 days ago I was driving the tractor when a Polish guy rang me from my 'service' provider, guess what, I was due an upgrade. I stopped the tractor, he was a bit surprised when I told him I used a Nokia phone. He thought I had some sort of Samsung (my last upgrade). I told him that the terrier sank his teeth into the screen about a month after I got it and I went back to using a Nokia. I told him I was interested in the iphone SE, no surprise to him haha, so I ordered it, said I'd pick it up in my local 'service' provider's shop.

So here I am with a perfectly good Nokia and a brand new iphone still in the box (despite my 11 year old son's protestations) that I don't really need. It cost me €69 and a 24 month contract which includes 2 gigabites of data (WTF), 150 minutes of talk time and 150 texts for €23 (incl. VAT) per month. What's the catch?

24 months @ €23 is €552. I used the calculator on my Nokia to work that out! Ok maybe I could get a pay as you go deal from a different 'service' provider for €15, but I'd probably have to buy a phone and a sim card for €250 minimum.

I think it's being locked in for 24 months is where the catch is, it probably costs my 'service' provider virtually  nothing to provide me with 150 minutes of talk time. I don't know how much apple charge my 'service' provider, but I'm guessing it's about half what the average joesoap can buy a phone for (250/2) so €125 approx. So they make €427 - the cost of calls  (virtually nothing)+€69  out of selling me a new phone.

Oh, I nearly forgot, my 'service' provider retail outlet was selling an otterbox defender cover for €49, the same cover can be bought on line for €15. My Nokia doesn't need a cover, and only needs to be charged twice a week. You should have seen the amount of shit inside my Nokia when the sales assistant opened it to see if I needed a new sim card!

I think the iphone is the carrot to get people to sign a new contract. There's a joke going around about the new iphone X,
how do you milk a sheep?
Launch a new iphone.

In conclusion I'll leave you with a quote from The Grapes of Wrath;
'The first time I heard the word service was when my daddy was taking a heifer to the bull. So now everytime I hear the word service I can't help wondering just who is gettin' screwed?'.
 

Half way to forty hammers.

The Man With Forty Hammers.

I used to work in Co Clare in a lab. Part of the job was taking samples from sites around the county. We drove past a small workshop and the guy driving said 'That man has forty hammers'.

A couple of weeks ago I bought a ballpien hammer from a travelling salesman. I didn't really need another hammer, but I bought it anyway to hansel the man, it was a wet day and he'd been travelling over a hundred miles and I was his first customer. I sometimes think I bring good luck to these people, if they make a sale to me early in the day then the rest of the day will be good for them.

It's the blue hammer towards the lower middle.

Anyway I started thinking how many hammers have I? So yesterday I gathered them all up and laid them out on a pallet. I found 18 including a mallet, there was one in the car and another in the jeep, actually the one in the jeep is a fencing pliers, but it can be used to hammer in a staple. So I'm half way there, to the man with 40 hammers that is, if you will allow me to count the fencing pliers as a hammer.

What's the big deal with hammers you may ask? Well to put it simply the hammer is the mother of all tools. When our ancestors picked up a rock to bash a nut open that was the first rudimentary tool. To make a better tool they shaped flints with another stone and so on until we started to melt ores and cast them. Today hammers are still used by a few of us on a daily basis. Most of the farmers I know have at least one hammer, some have two or three, but 20 is a bit OTT. I have an excuse though, I am a blacksmith. When I gathered mine up yesterday I deliberately didn't gather up the ones with no handles, there is at least a half dozen or so of them.

Most of my hammers were bought in joblots at auctions. Some were on the farm before I was born. One christmas I mentioned that I'd like a hammer for christmas, I got 3 ballpiens that christmas.

Below, I re-arranged them according to their purpose.

On the left are two sledges, the long handled one weighs 10lbs, the other is an 8lb stone mason's hammer. Next are two more stone mason's hammers, used to finish the face of a stone. Then there are six blacksmithing hammers of various weights, the sixth one is used for swaging. Next are a few carpenter's hammers with a claw for pulling out nails. Beside them is what I think is a cobbler's hammer. that came in box of tools at an auction. Next up we have 2 lump hammers, made in China, they are slightly softer and can be used for forging, especially to hit tool steel without damaging the tool steel. Generally one of these lives in each tractor on the farm. Finally at the extreme right is the wooden mallet, sometimes used to hit chisels for woodwork, or can be used in the forge to straighten a twist without marking it. My next hammer purchase will be a rawhide hammer, also used for forging, light taps on something that is almost finished. Perhaps I'll mention it at christmas and get 3!

 

I'm tired but I can't sleep. I'm not in bed but it's almost 1am, I'm watching a tv programme about Phil Collins. I like his music, one of his songs is my favourite song, 'in the air tonight' if I'm ever in a coma and you want me to come out of it this song would most likely do it.

Anyway on nights when I can't sleep I recite this stuff to myself, starting with my feet. It also works as a relaxation technique, here goes;

My toes feel heavy and relaxed
My toes feel heavy and relaxed
My toes feel heavy and relaxed

My feet feel heavy and relaxed
My feet feel heavy and relaxed
My feet feel heavy and relaxed

My ankles feel heavy and relaxed
My ankles feel heavy and relaxed
My ankles feel heavy and relaxed.

My toes, my feet and my ankles are all heavy and relaxed
My toes, my feet and my ankles are all heavy and relaxed
My toes, my feet and my ankles are all heavy and relaxed.


My calves feel heavy and relaxed
and I think about the only time I ever saw you in a dress
My calves feel heavy and relaxed
a black dress the day we had an interview with E6
My calves feel heavy and relaxed
and you got the job.

My knees feel heavy and relaxed
My knees feel heavy and relaxed
My knees feel heavy and relaxed

My thighs feel heavy and relaxed
I think about you having a coffee
My thighs feel heavy and relaxed
sitting with your legs crossed
My thighs feel heavy and relaxed
one hand tucked between your thighs

My calves, my knees and my thighs are all heavy and relaxed
My calves, my knees and my thighs are all heavy and relaxed
My calves, my knees and my thighs are all heavy and relaxed.

Think of a smile of warmth, compassion and love
you smiling in a park, with sun behind you
Think of a smile of warmth, compassion and love
the sunlight streaming through your hair 
Think of a smile of warmth, compassion and love.

My hips feel heavy and relaxed
I think about your hips
My hips feel heavy and relaxed
clad in Levis at eye level
My hips feel heavy and relaxed.
walking away from me after we had a row

My lower back feels heavy and relaxed
maths class in 2nd year, you sat in front of me
My lower back feels heavy and relaxed
I could see your green panties
My lower back feels heavy and relaxed.
embarrassed you pulled your shirt lower. 

My spine feels heavy and relaxed
My spine feels heavy and relaxed
the flat gold chain at the top of your spine
My spine feels heavy and relaxed.

My hips, my lower back and my spine are all heavy and relaxed
My hips, my lower back and my spine are all heavy and relaxed
My hips, my lower back and my spine are all heavy and relaxed.

My stomach feels heavy and relaxed
At holloween you invited me to your room
My stomach feels heavy and relaxed
you took off your jumper
My stomach feels heavy and relaxed
and inadvertently revealed your navel 

My chest feels heavy and relaxed
we never actually chose a star
My chest feels heavy and relaxed
but now whenever I see Orion's belt
My chest feels heavy and relaxed
Or Mars I think of you too

My shoulders feel heavy and relaxed
How tanned they were
My shoulders feel heavy and relaxed
'03 was a good summer
My shoulders feel heavy and relaxed
your fabulous hair cascading over them

My stomach, my chest and my shoulders are all heavy and relaxed
My stomach, my chest and my shoulders are all heavy and relaxed
My stomach, my chest and my shoulders are all heavy and relaxed.

My arms feel heavy and relaxed
My arms feel heavy and relaxed
The first time I saw you
My arms feel heavy and relaxed
You wore an armulet

My elbows feel heavy and relaxed
My elbows feel heavy and relaxed
My elbows feel heavy and relaxed

My wrists feel heavy and relaxed
You sat beside me as I ordered a USB watch on the bay
My wrists feel heavy and relaxed
I asked did you want one too
My wrists feel heavy and relaxed
But you politely declined

My arms, my elbows, and my wrists are all heavy and relaxed.

My arms, my elbows, and my wrists are all heavy and relaxed.

My arms, my elbows, and my wrists are all heavy and relaxed.

My hands feel heavy and relaxed

My hands feel heavy and relaxed

My hands feel heavy and relaxed

My fingers feel heavy and relaxed

You asked me could I raise my 3rd finger

My fingers feel heavy and relaxed

While still keeping the others flat?

My fingers feel heavy and relaxed

I showed you that I could and you said

some piano players who couldn't 

would be very jealous.

My thumbs feel heavy and relaxed

Why is thumbing a lift so bad

My thumbs feel heavy and relaxed

where you come from it has a 

My thumbs feel heavy and relaxed

totally different meaning, now I know.

My hands, my fingers and my wrists are all heavy and relaxed

Your long slender skilled fingers would do a surgeon proud

My hands, my fingers and my wrists are all heavy and relaxed

My hands, my fingers and my wrists are all heavy and relaxed.

My neck feels heavy and relaxed

As I get more relaxed I am more

My neck feels heavy and relaxed

conscious of my heart beating 

My neck feels heavy and relaxed

My jaw feels heavy and relaxed

we watched a world cup game on tv

My jaw feels heavy and relaxed

Your country won and we drank some carlsberg

My jaw feels heavy and relaxed

My tongue feels heavy and relaxed

you flew home the next day

My tongue feels heavy and relaxed

3 world cups have passed since

My tongue feels heavy and relaxed

My neck, my jaw and my tongue are all heavy and relaxed

My neck, my jaw and my tongue are all heavy and relaxed

My neck, my jaw and my tongue are all heavy and relaxed.

My lips feel heavy and relaxed

My lips feel heavy and relaxed

My lips feel heavy and relaxed

My cheeks feel heavy and relaxed

My cheeks feel heavy and relaxed

My cheeks feel heavy and relaxed

My eyes feel heavy and relaxed

Boris eye lashes I teased

My eyes feel heavy and relaxed

My eyes feel heavy and relaxed

My lips, my cheeks and my eyes are all heavy and relaxed

My lips, my cheeks and my eyes are all heavy and relaxed

My lips, my cheeks and my eyes are all heavy and relaxed.

My forehead feels heavy and relaxed

My forehead feels heavy and relaxed

My forehead feels heavy and relaxed

My temples feel heavy and relaxed

My temples feel heavy and relaxed

My temples feel heavy and relaxed

My ears feel heavy and relaxed

with the Claddagh earrings

My ears feel heavy and relaxed

I wonder what it would take now

My ears feel heavy and relaxed

to make up with you again.

After the Poetry?

After the love has gone all that's left is the poetry.

But what is left after the poetry has gone? Is it just the memories? Or the everyday reminders that have become routine? Driving along a certain piece of road perhaps, or something as simple as looking at the horizon out the kitchen window as I press the coffee pot plunger and wonder do you still think about me too.
At least the dreams have stopped. For ages I had a recurring dream of being in a cinema and you would walk past and just ignore me, the same way as you ignored me on the bridge one January afternoon. Sometimes I dreamt that we actually had a conversation, in a lab usually, solving a problem or in a canteen you'd smile sit down beside me and then......
Now all that is left is the memories. I spent years mourning your loss, I wonder was it the same for you too? Perhaps that's why you never replied to the emails I sent you at christmas or on your birthday. I always felt very down after sending one off to cyberspace. I'd frantically check my inbox 8 or 9 times a day for a few days, naively hoping for a reply. But there never was any replies. You blocked me on all social media, can't say I blame you, but I'm glad to see a photo of you wearing the Claddagh earrings a few years after we stopped talking. It gave me HOPE, perhaps there was still a slim chance that maybe some day you would get back to me.
This year I didn't send you any emails wishing you a happy christmas, or all the best in 2017. I can't do it  anymore. Instead when I went to feed the cattle on new year's eve I lit a candle for you in the HOPE that maybe soon you'll get back to me.

So I conclude, after the love has gone, the poetry exhausted and as the memories fade, HOPE is still there.

Little update; still dreaming about you, were you thinking about me?

http://www.dailymotion.com/video/xjdrlo_bob-dylan-johnny-cash-girl-from-the-north-countrywmv_music

I came across this last year and it reminded me of you, hope someone bought you a good coat for the winter.

Black and White

Yesterday when I got up I had no intention of going to church, it just happened. After I dropped my son to school I had to go to the dentist, I parked in the churchyard because it's free, it's away from the prying eyes of traffic wardens, yes you guessed it the tax disc is still not up to date! I was able to park in shade, as it was a bright sunny morning I wanted to park in shade because my dog was in the jeep.
I walked to the dental practice, I had a 9am appointment, got in fairly quickly as mine was the first job of the day. I had a few fillings to get so decided to do two side beside on the top left, but this isn't about the dentist.
After leaving the dentist I walked back to the church, at the gate I met Bart, a Polish guy who used to work for me, I asked how he was, the family etc. we discussed mortgages still a hot topic in Ireland. Then I asked him was there Mass on or what, he said a member of the Polish community had died, his funeral was on that morning, I'd heard about the crash on the news the previous Friday, the road was closed. It happened on a road I drive on 4 or 5 times a week. It was a motorbike, no one else involved. Bart told me that his friend Lucas hit a badger, came off the bike and broke his neck. His wife of 7 months was about a mile behind him when it happened, it was almost dark and she rode on home, passing him by, never saw him. When she got home there was no sign of him, so she got in the car and drove back to find cop cars, ambulances, fire brigades etc. Lucas was only 33. He had been born behind the iron curtin and died on a road near my local town in a freak accident with a black and white badger. Bart said something like it's destiny, there's nothing you can do, yeah, when your time is up it's up I replied. I said I better go as I wanted to get out of the churchyard before the funeral arrived.
So I went to the jeep and let the dog out for a piss. It was something Bart had said, DESTINY. I decided to go to the funeral. I walked around to the other end of the church and in the main door. I came in at the back of the church and chose an empty pew 4 or 5 rows up, made a half assed attempt at a genuflection, I'm not a catholic, sat down and said a silent prayer.
It was still a few minutes to go, most of the mourners waited outside. The pew I had chosen was opposite a wide side door. Two priests in white stoles went to the door and opened it, letting in a draught and the bright spring sunshine. It was the door that Lucas would enter. When I went into the church there were 2 maybe 3 bikes in the churchyard. As I watched the two priests looking out the door more bikes started to arrive. One of the bikers, wearing a red bandanna asked the priests for permission to park the bikes in two lines either side of the door, the priests nodded. The bikers lined up, I wished I had a camera as the image was beautifully  framed in the doorway, I knew I was witnessing something very special, the black leather of the bikers contrasting with the white vestments of the priests, and the black hearse contrasting with the sunshine on a beautiful sunny Spring day. Not a day for a camera I thought, better to cherish the memory instead, and try to describe it in words.
The undertaker awkwardly placed his little fold up trolley in the porch, then a few moments later removed it, it would not be needed. These guys were going to do a proper job for Lucas. The bikes shone in the sunshine as they ticked over. As the coffin bearers shouldered Lucas at the back of the hearse the biker with the red bandanna  spun his hand quickly. The roar of the bikes as they saluted a fallen comrade could be heard for miles. What I felt was an unbelievable thrill, I hadn't been on a bike since the year that Lucas was born, but I swear my right hand twisted in the motion to open the throttle fully wide, the words of the song 'We're on the highway to Hell' blazed through my brain as Lucas entered the darkness of the church. During the ceremony which was mostly conducted in Polish I learnt that Lucas was a really talented pastry chef who had recently been promoted to manager where he worked. The biker in the red bandanna  spoke at length in Polish, I wished I knew what he said. It was a first for me, to see someone in a red bandanna, dressed in black leather speaking from a pulpit.
I don't know why I went to church yesterday, but today I'm glad I did, maybe it's because I have my own issues with badgers and TB, perhaps someone is trying to tell me that my badger problem isn't anywhere near as bad as the young Polish widow who yesterday buried her husband of 7 months,
Rest in Peace Lucas.

tb on the farm

I've been going through a tough few months on the farm lately. It all started last August when a cow sent for slaughter showed up with TB in a post mortem, then another one in September. So out of 6 cows sent for slaughter, 2 showed up with TB.
We needed to do a full herd test, I wanted to do it before the winter feeding started, but Dept of Ag rules wouldn't allow this until 60 days after the last reactor had been removed from the farm. We did a test in November and 18 cattle showed up with TB. I was a bit surprised, I thought maybe we'd have 5 or 6 reactors. I couldn't understand where it was coming from. We all know that TB can spread from wildlife to cattle, but there are no deer in this area, ok there is some badger activity, but none of the setts were active. I have never bought in female cattle, and the only males I bought in since our last TB episode in 2006 was 2 stock bulls, they passed the test in November.
So 18 cattle were valued by an independent valuer who had been given 'valuation guidelines' by the Dept. I agreed to the valuations and 18 cattle, mostly in calf cows, went for slaughter at a local meat plant. I went to see them being killed, but when I tried to ask questions about whether all the cows were in calf, or if any of them had lesions I was told 'Your local DVO will tell you anything you need to know' then I got told where to stand by an over-bearing Russian bitch. I watched as my next crop of calves disappeared down a chute.
I got a cheque for the cattle about 2 days later, it was about 1/3 the value put on them by the 'independent valuation'. The balance came from the Dept about a month later when all the necessary paperwork, including a tax clearance cert had been forwarded on to the local DVO.
So the wife thinks it's fucking brilliant, we'll have money for christmas, be able to pay a few bills, pay bank arrears etc. But what about next fucking christmas, and the one after that? I ask her......
Needless to say many rows ensued. Later we found out 13 out of the 18 cattle showed up with lesions. This was quite high, so the vet from the Dept. suggested that we really should do a blood test for TB at the next herd test. Ok, I said, in my ignorance, I wanted to get to the bottom of this. The vet went on to explain that the blood test is only about 85% perhaps 92% accurate, it does throw up a few false positives. I agreed to go ahead with the blood test on all animals over 12 months old at the next test.
Roll on February, we had to wait 60 days after the last reactor was removed from the herd. By this time a lot of the cows were heavy in calf. Our own vet did the skin test, and the Dept vet took blood samples from all the cows, stock bulls and heifers over 12 months, 79 I think in total for blood test. I remember it was snowing and our own vet got delayed that morning.
So 3 days later we had the results of the blood test, out of the 79 tested 24 had failed, including one of my stock bulls. I was sort of in a semi-automatic daze as we did the skin test. I remember the Dept. vet asking me 'Do you love this cow'? What he meant was she was borderline on the blood test, and her skin test was clear, she was probably a false positive on the blood test. I was going to say something smart like I love all my cows, but I bit my tongue and bravely/stupidly said something like, let her off (for slaughter). Remember I still wanted to eliminate this disease from my farm as quickly as possible. So the final tally that day, 36 more cattle gone. The worrying part was one weanling bull was gone too, this group of cattle were all clear in the previous test. So a week went by, I sorted out all the reactors from the rest of the herd. The 'independent' valuer came again. By this time cattle prices in the mart had risen considerably since the last test, but the valuations didn't reflect this, we eventually thrashed it out, I agreed to the valuations, yes you guessed it, I wanted to get to the end of this as quickly as possible. 3 weeks after the test 35 out of the 36 reactors went off to the same local meat plant. One cow didn't go because she was calving that morning. She went a week later. Needless to say I didn't go to the meat plant that day to see my future sliding down a chute. However I did go to another meat plant later that week with 3 bulls for slaughter. Strangely enough one of these showed up with lesions, which later showed up as being TB positive after being cultured. Now this bull passed a test in November, passed a test in February and yet still had TB bad enough to show up with lesions. I am not really looking forward to my next TB test in early May.
So calving of my remaining 17 cows continues, slowly. I have bought another Aberdeen angus bull, there is still about 30 heifers that will be fit for service this year, all going well next year might be better. The Dept vet wants to do the ELIZA test at the next herd test, I think I have no option but to do it, after all I want to get to the bottom of this........    

thoughts on a trip to the meat factory

Yesterday was thursday, I used to look forward to lunch on thursday. I got up earlier than usual  to load 2 bulls in a trailer and take them to the slaughter house. I had no problem sorting them out from their comrades, one of them used to love having the back of his head scratched. I call it the 'toledo' spot. It's where those spannish bull fighting bastards stick in the sword after they've finished torturing the bull to end his life by severing the spinal chord. Toledo is a spannish city and I think they still make swords there for tourists, it's also afaik the spannish word for sword. Any way back to my bulls, got them out of the pen and into the crush. One of them needed an eartag. First blood of the day I thought as the spike on the tag pierced a vein in his ear.
It's about a 45 minute drive to the slaughter house from my yard. I drive at about 45 mph. If I can, I pull into the edge of the road to let cars pass. If the road is too narrow, tough shit. Most of the way I drive in 4th sometimes 5th. I think about ringing the miller where I buy bull ration to ask can I weigh in so I can find out what the kill out % is, but I don't bother, there is no tax on the land cruiser, one of the tyres on the trailer is bald, I don't want to meet any cops so I stick to the ring road avoiding towns. I pull in at a wide part of the road to let a bread van pass, but the prick pulls in behind me and never passes. Fuck him, by the time I get to the slaughter house there is a string of cars behind me.
At the slaughter house there is a que of trailers in front of me, the security man asks me to wait at the barrier until there is room ahead. It's half eight and raining. I sort of listen to the radio and dry my hat with the dashboard heater. Soon the barrier is lifted and I join the que. When I get halfway up I take the bull's passports up to the office and do the paperwork. He asks how heavy they are, 350 maybe 360 kg, I tell the guy there see you in 10 minutes. I help the guy in front of me back in his trailer, he says he's a bad driver. Easily half the farmers there have a land cruiser and ifor williams trailer and have of those have a dog in the passenger seat. He tells me how he backed in the wrong jeep and trailer and loaded it with cattle he'd just bought at a mart one day, I asked was it dark and he said 'No'.
I back up my trailer at the lairage, the guy behind me backs up beside me and is able to get his cattle off first, but I don't care, nobody panics at a slaughter house, just the cattle. My bulls walk off to their deaths easily enough. I go wash out my trailer, the guy who skipped ahead of me has an attractive red headed daughter in the front passenger seat instead of a dog. She is in her early 20's hair tied back in a ponytail. She doesn't talk much, me and her old man talk farming for a few minutes, they have suckler cows same as me, pissed off with the price of cattle, got 4.60 a kg last year, 3.60 a kg this year, that's roughly €400 euro less a head.
It's my turn with the power hose. I put on my raybans to keep the bullshit out of my eyes as I powerhose it out the back of the trailer. My foot gets wet because there is a hole in my welly, fuck that's nice, but they'll have to wait, my son needs a new pair of shoes.
I park the land cruiser and trailer beside a 40 foot fridge trailer, lock it and head back to the lairage, the manager says my bulls are gone up the line. I feel a bit sad, time was I used to give the lairage guys a hand to run my cattle up the chute. Back then perhaps 20 years ago I'd say a prayer, something like thank you, hope these provide a decent dinner for lots of people. Or tell Queen maeve I was asking for her, with a tear in my eye. But not anymore, not when I'm feeling screwed by all the meat factories.
I wash my wellys and head round to the payment office 'joke' and get a banin coat and a head protector. Head up the steps to the slaughter hall. I wash and dry my hands, there's an automatic scrubbing machine with two rotating brushes for my wellys, I think as they come out as new (except for the leak) that's one of the best things about seeing your cattle being killed. I push through the stainless steel doors, what you see first is sides of beef moving slowly to the left to the cold room, there is a wall to the right and straight ahead is maybe 30 cattle hanging from the ceiling in various stages of processing. There is a smell of hot guts but I don't notice it anymore. My cousin who is also a farmer says he hates that smell. But to me it's one of my favourite smells, it's the smell of money, the smell of a clear overdraft, the smell that pays the bills, puts food on the table, new shoes on my son's feet. I love that smell, when the weather is hot the smell is stronger, maybe because it's cold I don't notice the smell or more likely it's because the price of beef is so bad I don't notice it.
I walk past the scales and at the automatic grader I have to stop because it takes a photo of every second side and I don't want to walk past, the lights go off for a second before the photo is taken. There is a low wall running down the middle of the slaughter house. The line is 'U' shaped. The cattle come in at the top of one side of the U just after slaughter, and at the top of the other side of the U is where the door is and where they turn left to the cold room. The low wall where I lean on and watch the whole process runs up the middle of the U. My bulls are hanging up, bleeding, I can't really see them. At 10 am everything stops for breakfast, they've been working since 7am. I go with them to the canteen, tea and coffee is free but food has to be paid for. I remember the irony of having a free roast beef dinner in a slaughter house canteen the very first time I went to see a bullock being killed.
There about 4 long white tables in the canteen with room for perhaps 20 at each table, I just get a mug of tea, fishing out the teabag with my fingers. I sit at the first table beside a man with a tattoo sleeve, I say hello but he doesn't talk much, I suspect he doesn't speak english. A big brazilian guy and a paki sit down and we chat a bit, where are you from, Sao Paulo. He offers me a date from the paki's lunch box, and I take it. After about 15 minutes everybody heads back to the slaughter hall. Slowly one of my bulls moves along the line, the brazilian who I had breakfast with 5 minutes before chops the front legs and makes a few cuts at the throat of my bull. I wonder does he enjoy his job, he is standing in 2 inches of blood with a blank expression on his face, I don't think so. He has been here 11 years, he probably has most of the price of a farm or a decent house in brazil saved by now. My second bull appears, there are 8 other cattle on the line between them. It is hard to keep track of them, when the hide comes off the first one there is a small red patch where the fat has been pulled off, it helps me identify him. I chat to a vet, who says he is the hardest working man on the floor, yeah says I and the best paid. I feel I am the worst paid in there. My bull's guts empty out on to a low sized stainless steel table with a conveyor belt top. I ask if there is any fluke in the liver, the vet makes a few quick cuts and pronounces it 'perfect'. My second bull is being skint and I ask him to look at that one as well. My first bull gets a label with a carcase number, 7770 and his ear tag number on it too, it's easier now for me to keep track of him. He moves around the bottom corner of the U and is sawn in half down through the spine, next an eastern european woman removes bits of nerve. It must be a tough place for a woman to work, especially when she's on the rag looking at blood all day. The second bull has his liver out on the table, 'Fit for the pan' says the vet. I walk up to the grader and watch how cattle are grading and weighing as I wait for my 2 bulls. U and R mostly 2 and 3 for fat cover. My first bull is a U-2+ and weighs 360 kg, I'm happy at that, no deductions for being overweight or short of fat, the next bull moves slowly on, R+2+ and 380kg, I'm pleasantly surprised at the weights, I'm doing mental maths multiplying 38 by 3 and a half. 2.6 or 2.7k it's ok, will keep the wolf from the door for a month.

things I've learnt

I've learnt a couple of things recently. First thing I've learnt is that sometimes it is better to walk away.

By this I mean that if there is something we really want, but if the timing is wrong or if we are at a particular stage in our lives where other things must take precedence over that which we really want, then it can be better to walk away, and maybe come back to it a later stage.

Second thing I've learnt is that a silent protest is a very powerful form of protest. It is powerful because it gives an advantage to those making the protest, the advantage is that it upsets those whom the protest is made against. Because there is no dialogue, those whom the protest is made against can't do anything to solve the problem. But because there is no dialogue the problem never gets resolved, the only outcome is a stalemate, nobody really wins, no problems get resolved. So even though a silent protest is a very powerful form of protest it doesn't achieve anything. A silent protest is pretty dumb, really.

loaded some photos on picaso today