Tired, happy, but now a bit fuming!

Ok so here I am again with what has become a weekly blog posting.

Actually I am in a bit of a mood as I write, in fact I have tried to shake off my ire but it is nestling within me like a bad prawn jalfrezi. I am hoping that writing this blog will be therapeutic and the act of committing some alpacaness to screen will calm me down. If not Sue will badger me into a good mood, she does that you know. It's like being attacked with a large tickle stick, only not with Ken Dodd on the other end of it.

Anyway the title of this particular posting starts with the word 'tired'. I am tired (maybe that's why I am in a strop?) because I was up at 4am to turn in at the day job. This morning at 6.47am precisely the sun rose in the east and caused something special to happen at Stonehenge. I don't know what, I don't much care. Suffice it to say that because of this 'event', known as the Autumn Equinox, several hundred people feel the need to go to Stonehenge and experience the sun coming up over the Heel stone or something and therefore someone like me has to be there in case someone does something silly. No-one did which was splendid, the sun rose, everyone went aah, or started chanting, job done. It was a beautiful morning so there was the screeching of tyres as I set off in search of a nice bacon butty. Marvellous. That's why I am tired.

Anyway the rest of the day flew past (pretty darn busy once the bacon had settled) and because of an early start I was blessed with an early finish. A dash home, a quick cuppa with Mrs S and then it was out into the field to bag a few photographs of the cria in their new paddock.

Here is a picture of some mighty alpaca cria. Aah. Now I almost feel like chanting.

A happy time spent lolloping around amongst the alpacas with the camera, snapping at will.

Now you may have noticed a cria in the above photograph wearing a coat. The reason for that is that the Mighty Patou Show Team has been selected. Yes, selected. Not just, 'Right everyone in who's eligible', no an actual real selection process has taken place here. There has obviously been some big disappointments and some jubilation along the way but all have now resigned themselves to their fate. I did make it clear that just because you haven't been shorn doesn't necessarily mean that you don't go to a show. It sort of gives them all a bit of hope, they bucked up a bit after that.

So, introductions. First up is Patou Sabrina. A full sister to Patou Ruby-May who did so well for us last year, mother Bobby (a Mateus girl) and father, Lillyfield Jack of Spades. Next to her on the right is little Sandstorm, he was a bit miffed to miss out on selection and was less than happy with the 'We don't do fawns' line.

Next is Patou Spirit, Sue's little favourite, mother Patou Fifi (a Wiracocha's Dream girl), father our boy Columbus, Herr Clumpmeister. Spirit is absolutely lovely.

So we've had the two girls, now to the two boys. Some of you may remember Sherwood, aka Woody, from an earlier posting when we almost lost him to a bad chest infection when he was about a week old. Well good old Woody is thriving (despite having  unresolved 'issues' with his mother) and is a very handsome chap with a cracking fleece. His mother is Patou Minstrel, a Jack of Spades girl and his father is Mr Clumpington (Columbus). Woody belongs to Angus, who is going to halter train him and lead him into the ring as a junior handler next year.

Lastly, but by no means least is Patou Sultan, not Sultana, Sultan. He is another Jack of Spades boy and his mother is Patou Penny, a Witness girl. He is the business (please ignore the badly hanging coat), I would actually say that he is the best that we have ever produced. He is a cracker. Watch out people, he's coming to a show ring near you next year. Be afraid, be very afraid, The Sultan, NOT Sultana, is going to cause a scene. Oh crikey now I've done it. Sultana, I mean Sultan also belongs to junior Patouman and will also be halter trained by him.

So there we have the happy but of the title.
Sadly the 'fuming' bit of the title will not be explained, Sue won't let me tell you. She's probably right.
Now where's that tickle stick?