Firstly sorry for the delay in blogging but we have had a busy week here. It's a good job I have been on holiday.
Now this tantrum, I'm not happy about it but I might as well get it out of the way.
Regular readers and anyone who knows me will understand that it is very easy to tell what mood I am in because it shows like a beacon. I tend to wear my heart on my sleeve and have problems covering up emotions. I am 6 years old emotionally, or there abouts, sometimes a little younger. I know it's not clever but there we are that's me.
Today was a busy day that had its ups and downs, consequently so did I. An early start and Angus and I loaded up Clump into the trailer and we were off to Old Stour Alpacas for some spitting off. Normally a 15 minute drive. Not today, signs everywhere, road closed. Why? No idea. It said it was closed from 0900-1900hrs but when we came back an hour later the road was open. Yeah thats what I thought, they closed it just for me. They were just putting the signs up as I approached, how suspicious is that? I bet you a pound to a pinch of brown stuff that as soon as I was out of sight they loaded them back into the lorry with a smile and buggered off for a cuppa.
Anyway a 15 minute journey took 30 minutes because every tractor in south Wiltshire was coming the opposite way and the lanes were narrow. I stared at every tractor driver through slitty eyes as they waved at me as they passed. They knew what was going on, sure they did. I tell you it's a conspiracy.
Anyway we got there and Clump performed his spitting off duties very well, an orgling masterclass, oozing testosterone, leaping on everything that moved, good lad. It was then home for some spitting off with the ladies of the mighty Patou. With the herd rounded up I lead the big fellow into the mating/spitting off pen and ushered in the first contestant.
Was there the merest hint of an orgle? No there wasn't. Clump went all ..... well he went all girly on me. I paraded them in one after another and the Clumpmeister stood there like an expensive lemon. Most of the herd have been spitting off well and a few gave him a gobfull for good measure as they walked past. Clump didn't flinch. Metaphorically he was standing there giving it the double teapot. Anyway I gave up and retreated for a cuppa. The herd was released and wandered down the runway into the field. My mood had darkened.
Tantrum rapidly approaching, stand by.
A few minutes later I looked out of the kitchen window and saw the entire herd in a neighbours garden. Angus was playing with the young occupant of the house and they had obviously left the gate open. I rumbled down calling for Angus, but he was nowhere to be seen. I stomped into the garden and tried to stop the feeding frenzy that was underway. The good ladies of the Patou herd were head down and munching on seemingly everything above ground. Not only that but they were ignoring me. I slapped a few bottoms to get them moving but it was like being in a shoal of fish, they moved away from me only to reform behind me. I needed help. Every door of the neighbours house was locked and there was no response from within. By now the girls were tucking into an array of potted plants, probably poisonous, I once again attempted to usher them out, no luck. They were, by now, taking the piss. I was, by now, turning red and increasing my volume towards maximum output. Finally, The resident teenager appeared at the door. I explained the predicament, probably a bit too forcefully and demanded his help. He'd be straight out. Five minutes later I was still running around on my own trying to stop the herd poisoning itself to death. By now of course every plant in my mind had become extremely toxic. It was all a bit surreal.
Finally with assistance I managed to get the herd back into the field but by then I had blown up. I trumped back up the hill and shutting the door behind me slapped myself gently on the forehead, uttering various silent death threats.
Still, I'm alright now.