Life carries on as normal with memories, illness, regrets and fun. LONG LIVE LAMBRUSCO.

Lambrusco was ill.

The vet came, gave her a hooficure as in manicure, sprayed blue stuff on and gave her an injection of pain relief and penicillin. I needed to have her in a pen, because of all the rain our only pen was a paddy field, so I asked her if she wanted to go into the woodshed. Initially she said "not blaaaaaahhhdy likely" but after having shown some resistance she decided her hoof was tooo sore to run away. For once I could run faster than her. So she turned and together we walked amicably to the woodshed, she loped in and just lay down. Life was tough and painful. I was actually quite worried. It reminded me of when I was 6 years old and I had no desire at all to be away from home and not seeing Mum and Dad for several months as boarding school loomed. I ran away, screamed and shouted and kicked as violently as I could. I was picked up, pushed in the car, the door slammed and locked firmly behind me. The similarities in the story end there. Lambrusco was immediately visited by Jack, Lamborghini and Lambnie. They peered through the closed gate and reassured Lambrusco that it would all be ok and that no big green truck (BGT) was coming. She sat and enjoyed the sheep cocaine I gave her; I stayed with her for a good 30 minutes reassuring her that she'd be free to join her friends soon. Three hours after calling the vet, he arrived, diagnosed split toe nails and impacted mud. He did the appropriate treatment and Lambrusco was free to stay at home with her friends. When I was about 7 I had a penetrating eye injury. With the benefit of hindsight I had acute glaucoma. A few weeks (not bad for 'acute'!) after the event and having spent a while in the school sanatorium, I was taken 196 miles to Gertrude's Garden Hospital for children in Nairobi and was immediately bed bound. I lay on my back for a week. No visitors. After a week I went to theatre for an iridectomy and to this day I consider myself to be incredibly lucky that 60 years ago there was a good paediatric eye surgeon in Nairobi and I have pretty good sight. The day after I came out of theatre Mum arrived from Mwanza, about 300 miles away. She stayed a week and 2 days after I was discharged from the hospital she left to go back to Mwanza, where my parents were living. She went to the airport and I went to stay with a family about an hour out of Nairobi, for 3 weeks. Then back to school to a culture of being beaten for not remembering my multiplication tables, not doing very well in class and making any kind of noise after lights out. I did come second in Swahili.

Family photo before I got on the little Cessna behind us to go to school for 3 months. Guess who, front row right, next to Mum. 1964ish.

8 yrs old on my pogo stick during a school holiday.

Class photo 1964

On discharge Lambrusco was immediately visited by her field mates, the next day she was still a bit sore and slightly feverish but the 5 of them stuck together. Ali and I visited frequently. The pain relief kicked in quick enough, and the anti biotics did what they should. She's happy.

I like the vet's number plate: "MOODOC". Lambrusco in the sick bay. Visitors allowed.

Talk about smells, good ones and bad ones. The smell of wet or dry sheep's wool whilst still on the sheep just conjures up feelings of our gentle and friendly woolly friends. Oh my gosh, how I hate male public toilets unless I can lock myself in. Such bad smells and too many bad experiences, comments and approaches by people I have never seen before or again. I'd probably know Adam a lot better. Smells and associations. All too often we either hear on the news or read in the paper of inappropriate words and actions from unwanted sources. A kind of assault. Talking of assaults on my senses, we have mice, rats and a few more unwanted animals around so we put out poison for them. I know it's mean but I think it is better than a mouse running across your cheek at 3.00am. Ronnie the Rat had clearly had some blue bait for breakfast and died to get her own back. He went underneath the inaccessible toilet, lay down and died. And rotted. AND SMELT, and smelt worse every day for about a week, when it reached peak pong. No matter what I did it would not go away. As the learned Dr says "time is our best tool". That reminds me, smells and associations: Wetherspoons toilets. Best left well alone along with the ones at school which had no doors. It's a funny old world innit, where to go for a crap you have to have a portfolio of acceptable bogs. Often going outside to the games changing rooms was necessary, but depending on the time of day being caught was a risk. The toilets at the front door were for staff and guests, so if someone came in one had to sit there with feet off the ground and wait until they'd gone. It's was a funny old world where you could get in trouble for having a crap in teh wrong loo. Whilst the other ones were acceptable you always ran the risk of having water thrown over the top, someone peering over or it being flushed by someone else. Or knowing precisely where acceptable toilets are in town.

We had very good friends stay with us. They loved Cape Palliser lighthouse and the seal colonies as well as our local glow worm caves, but they also pointed out that NZ is the best country they've visited for clean public toilets. Smells, I do wonder when we'll get that delightful petrichor again. It has rained and rained. I'll guess the summer is going to be hot and dry. The smell of freshly cut grass maybe a

hint that warmer times are on the way, a job I did yesterday.

Cape Palliser lighthouse One of the seals at the colony A useful sign!!

Regrets, there are a few. We were growing five spectacular cauliflowers. The chickens were enjoying being totally free range and we were enjoying them ambling around and doing some useful excavations and manuring of the unplanted plots. We have learnt, and now those that weren't fenced, are. The cauliflower patch was fenced, but clearly the caulies smelt good and the chicken proof fence was breached. All caulies were gone, our supper was lacking anticipated ingredients and the chickens weren't laying eggs for us. They could at least pay us back. The regret is that there was a plan to make the fencing more substantial, and it was always being put off until 'tomorrow', then it was too late. I still regret being so 'spineless' and now I'm not sure if my fathers last will and testament was fulfilled as he requested, such was the way it was wound up; some aspects weren't as he would have liked. Oh well, at least my brother had the strength to finally say "the three of us think that it could have been handled better". (is it really better to be late that not at all)? I suppose it could have been worse!! I look back and am pleased that I know I did my best to resolve the issues. Regrets are interesting. We've already planted more cauliflowers; problem solved. Some events just can't be changed or revisited, but some can. I should have asked what I had done for so much displeasure and distrust to be held in me and for me to be told to "oh, just eff off" by my brother: so I did and didn't go back! I will never know, but eventually I am now at peace that I have a sort of sense of having 'moved on'. I suppose I've planted more cauliflowers, but disappointed I didn't move earlier.

Tomorrow up goes a new chicken pen to protect our cauliflowers and retain the eggs. Tomorrow the duck egg hunt starts. We know they have started laying because the ducks just randomly drop an egg where ever they happen to be and get the urge that there is an egg on the way. About 4 weeks ago we found 8 abandoned eggs in various places (and 9 today). It's a bit like going hunting for golf balls and snaffling them when the golfer is out of sight. I went through a phase of finding that highly amusing because I'd then hide somewhere and watch them hunting for their ball. Occasionally if I could, I'd pick a moment when their back was turned and lob it back in and then run fast.

3 eggs just dropped off. We found a very well hidden ducks nest. 15 eggs.

After 4 weeks of unrivalled fun watching the Women's World Cup football I'm now back to work. Isn't it so great that it is all so enjoyable. Oh how I love looking back into the bag of memories of good times that I have spent with Ali. I'll be sorry when they come to an end which sadly one day they will!! The gorillas in Bwindi Impenetrable Forest were amazing and so were the dancing lemurs in Madagascar. I love the animals. I'm off out to look for the Sheeps.

Memories of the good times are so much more satisfying than those of the bad times. Remembering the bum parts of the past is important to avoid repetition, just as remembering the good times is important to ensure repetition if the situation presents itself. What for the future? Who knows? Chronic conditions are 'watch and wait'. Our patch of paradise is just that and because it's so lovely I dread the day we have to move to a retirement village with on site hospital level care and dementia unit. Ali's Mum is pretty well but with aching legs. One day I'll be back to the UK and I'll endeavour to visit you.

Talking about good things coming to an end. We went for a walk up the hill behind us and found a poor sheep that has some kind of spinal injury. It's lying there, trying so hard to get up onto its front legs when we get close, but its back legs just aren't working. I've got a horrible feeling it will come to its end soon. We took it food and water, but it wasn't very interested. The farmer isn't too bothered, saying "where there is livestock, there is deadstock" and "oh well, there are plenty more". Poor sheepie.

I was interested when I was told by a family member "well you really do need to get a sense of humour". I slept like a log last night and woke up in the fireplace. I do suspect that some may say either 'put it behind you', 'build a bridge' or 'how long ago was that'? Firstly, these are my memoirs. Secondly, perspective is an interesting phenomenon, (and that reminds me of a song). I was a tad irritated when a dire ill founded accusation was levelled at me 3 years ago for something that happened 25 years ago and that on a hand shake and a hug was explained, resolved and I was absolved of the event about 8 years ago. Hypocrisy is an interesting phenomenon as well. I am still at a loss as to what happened for me to be told that I "had caused a huge schism in the family from which it would never recover", a statement that was never substantiated or explained. Is there any wonder my sense of humour has failed somewhat? But some people seem to smile.

I do have a lot of fun but it can be physically exhausting and draining on one's creative and imaginative mind. It's that time of year again. Last year a local very good person started up 'Glamorous Gumboots', which is precisely that. You put your most glamorous gear on and because its winter you put your gummies on. $5 per entry, and all money goes to the 4 local food banks. This year they will get about $2500 between them.

For the 'Bathing Bloke' I won a night for 2 in a local hotel.

I constantly look back on how my life has changed; here I am walking around looking for duck eggs and being genuinely excited when I see 19 chicken eggs in their hutch after a 5 day trip away to the Women's World Cup final. Gone are the days when I used to get up every morning at 4.30am to cycle 5 miles in all weathers to start my day of work either standing in front of a massive milk bottle washing machine, watching milk filling up the clean bottles or driving the fork lift truck. Oh my, there are some great memories from those factory days. Now I set up a solar water pump to fill our 25000 litre tank and Ali and I live in blissful harmony stroking sheep and knocking a tennis ball around. I still remember my first day on the forklift. Everything was going perfectly and I was impressed. With 90 gallons of milk I reversed out of the stacking cage for them all fall off. 90 gallons of milk on the floor with their broken bottles. Yes, the days of glass milk bottles. The lads had stacked the crates in such a way that every bottom crate was broken, so over they went. That was a much nicer initiation than a previous one at my first attempt at college, when I was 18, where I went to learnt to be a PE and geography teacher. I was stripped naked, painted with shoe polish, which of course then had to be scrubbed off, and I mean scrubbed and put in a wicker laundry basket to be taken somewhere. I suffered a serious attack of claustrophobia, and I left the college about 3 weeks later after hardly venturing out of my room. It was really awful but I was grateful that my brother came to visit me. I regret not being as caring when he was served some bad news.

This afternoon we heard lonely and desperate bleating from these 2 tiny guys. They'd lost their Mum. So sad, as you know I identified with them!! Mum appeared shortly after the photos were taken.

There you go, life goes on sometimes in much the same way as it always has and sometimes a lot better than it has. That's nice isn't it!?