Sheep and Technology

I forgot to take photos of the sheep shearing day. Our two local New Zealanders turned up at 7am and got to work straight away. No time for a chat or how's ya father. It was heads down, clippers out and sheep in the back wash. They had been brought in the night before by the farmer and so must have realised something was on the cards. As we have been blessed with relatively warm weather all week, I doubt they would have bothered about being stripped of their pride.


We had two helpers, one a local farmer from across the fields and the other our lambing assistant. She's Merlin's Wizzard, another blogger. We didn't meet through blogging but through a mutual friend, she got into blogging after meeting me. I guess I kept telling her how amazing it is and she decided to find out for herself. She has severe anaphylaxis which in English is a complete major allergy to Fish. Whenever she comes to the farm we have to make sure there is no fish in sight. That she won't be able to smell it or taste it and possibly not even see it as it makes her anxious. The cat wasn't too happy during the lambing as we had to save up the Whiska's salmon flavoured tins and she got sick of beef and chicken. Plus fish and chips was off the menu of our Saturday night takeaway. How unfair is that!


I have massively digressed. The clipping, or shearing, went very well and was finished by mid afternoon. I was in such a good mood that I made everyone bacon and egg barmcakes and hotdogs in finger rolls. Plus tea and coffee in flasks. And everything I'd said beforehand went by the by. They were actually quite grateful and everyone sat around on the wool table enjoying brunch. I went out after that. We managed eight sacks of wool at the end. The sacks are about 4ft x 4ft.


My good mood has also given me inspiration to get technical with the computer this week. I have signed up with gmail so that I can talk to a friend in Canada, otherwise known as Aims. We actually talk to eachother with headphones and a microphone. How amazing is that! For me, it's pretty darn cool. My technical talent just about stretches to pressing the on/off button. But I find this experience incredible. The line is so clear. I wonder if David Tennant is on gmail........

Shepherd's Flock

Meeting bloggers has always been somewhat exciting to me and today I met another. A lady whom I have been in contact with for almost twelve months on the Purple Coo website and with whom I have always felt I have a lot in common. I hope she will not mind me saying that on our meeting today at my farm I realised that we do indeed have much in common and spent a wonderful three and a half hours talking about everything from office jobs to bloggers, dogs to sheep. She is the lovely and most gentle Snailbeach Shepherdess. She brought her adorable husband and very handsome son and I was most honoured to meet them all.

The Farmer and SBS's husband clicked right from the start having so much in common. Both are sheep farmers together with knowing about all the other aspects of farming and it was so enjoyable to watch the boys walk in front while we 'ladies' pottered quite merrily behind. We stopped in our tracks each time a train went by as SBS is an enthusiast and so took great pleasure in waving to the bewildered passengers. The weather was kind to us and the glorious sunshine made our walk through the fields all the more worthwhile. I felt simply proud as I was able to show off what I have always named, "Heaven", knowing well that where SBS lives is equally as beautiful.

Her talent showed itself as she presented me with a huge fruit loaf upon her arrival (together with a present for Amy) and told me she had made it while up here on holiday. I was particularly glad about her obvious culinary skills and the Farmer is looking forward to his next bait box which will of course contain a large piece, smothered in Utterly Butterly. We sat out on the terrace, watching the trains, listening to the distant bleat of bald sheep and stuffing our faces with strawberries. Bliss. A lovely, pleasant and very memorable afternoon was had by all. Especially me.

Social Stories

It has been said recently that Amy is doing very well at school. Apart from her usual difficulties which are ongoing issues, she is showing extreme intelligence in many subjects and enjoying the work she does in the class room. This is, of course, great news and I am exceptionally proud of her. Since last week, she has been given a folder containing homework which she has to do at least five minutes of every night. You may think five minutes is nothing but believe me, to Amy, this is a huge milestone. On the back of the folder, her teacher has affixed a social story which explains why Amy must do homework and how it will benefit her during lessons. You may ask what a social story is. I will explain:

Example:
1.

I must not run over Sparky with my scooter. It is wrong to run over Sparky with my scooter. Sparky is my dog and I love her very much. If I run over her with my scooter it will hurt her. Because I love Sparky, I do not want to hurt her. My mum and dad will be very unhappy if I run over Sparky. Sparky will also be very unhappy.

2.

I must not jump on my bed. My bed is where I sleep. If I jump on my bed it will break. If my bed breaks, I will have nowhere to sleep. I have a trampoline outside which I can jump on. I enjoy jumping on my trampoline, it is much better than jumping on my bed.

You have probably, by now, got the gist of what a social story is. They are simply a few lines which indicate to the child why they should not do a certain activity, or, in the case of the homework, why they should. It is read out to Amy a few times a day, depending on the severity of her habit. Amy's social story in connection with the homework has been written by staff at school so I shall therefore not publish it here but it does say along the lines of why it is important to do homework, its importance being a benefit to learning more in the class room. It has been very cleverly written and Amy understands it. I realised this when she came home last night, informing me of her sudden need to do her homework before supper. She read through a book, every page. The only word she stumbled on was 'precious'.

We started using social stories with Amy when she was four years old. I recall her first one being about spitting. She got into a habit of spitting everywhere she went and when she spat on the mirror in McKay's it was the last straw! We have had social stories about swearing, banging doors, hurting the dogs and aggression towards the farmer and me. Every one has worked. She still does all these things but on a small scale. I would recommend social stories to anyone for their children. Whether or not they have special needs.

The A1

For those "powers that be" who dish out the dosh and allow us Joe Publicans to live, they could do with driving up and down the A1, from Alnwick to Berwick, on a Monday morning. I had to do a quick dash to the shops first thing, which in my case is a 40 mile round trip, and I was only able to travel at 45mph on one of the busiest A roads in the North of England, if not in the country. I do not travel fast even when the road allows but it is particularly frustrating when one is stuck behind a convoy of lorries, caravans and motorhomes on a road which allows a speed of up to the national speed limit, 60mph. Between my local junction and the roundabouts at Berwick, there are no dual carriageways. There are however, complete maniacs who think they own the A1 and have a right to drive at whatever speed they like, overtaking, weaving in and out of, and generally frightening the likes of me half to death. What will it take to have this stretch of road dualled? How many more lives have to be lost and how many more families have to be shattered before some money is spent and we are once more remembered.

I was driving home from my mum's yesterday, along the M62 which was littered with accidents and road works before getting onto the A1 North of which a small stretch was actually closed. It beggars belief. It really does. I sat in a traffic jam for two hours, bumper to bumper, going nowhere. Amy was wonderful, never complained, just played "I Spy". I, on the other hand, spent the two hours swapping and changing channels on the radio hoping for an update to the road closure. And then suddenly, the road opened again and off we went. I could almost hear everyone's car engine cheer as gears were changed and windows were wound up.

200th Post.....

I was wondering what to do in order to mark the occasion.

So I thought I would show you this picture of a hill. It is at the top of a silage field on our farm land and I go there to think. It is one of the most serene places I have ever been in my life. It is about half a mile away from my house. I take a small blanket with me of which I sit upon then I look into the distance and allow myself to become saturated in thought. Recently I have used this tranquil space to think about my book. It has helped recent despondency and I have begun to feel inspired once more. I would therefore like to share a short extract with you that I wrote recently. It is a first draft and I am obviously aware is in dire need of much tweaking, before you wonder!

My time was booked shortly after by Julia Delaney, a journalist whom I felt wanted a reading in order to write about it in her weekly column. However, obligingly I accepted her request and booked her in, hoping I would make contact with someone close to her, finding the proof that she so obviously craved. I never felt as though I had to prove anything to anyone. My gift was true and those who wished not to believe were free to do so. It always came as a shock to the sceptics when I was able to communicate with a loved one and they had no choice but to believe what they heard.

When I had first started practicing I would be visited by many sceptics which often frustrated me, leaving me feeling quite drained after a short reading. It was of course embarrassing if no spirits presented before me but after a while I realised that I had no need to feel that way. My spirit guide was always present and more often than not, the sceptic returned some months later for another try. I think it always helped them to step into my life as I never took money, even though some of the believers insisted I did and gave it to charity.
Julia, tall, elegant and dressed in smart black trouser suit, stepped into the house. She held a file under her arm and I suspected a pen within easy reach in her handbag. It crossed my mind whether or not she may possess a Dictaphone or even a tape recorder but she did not show me either. Her initial reaction to my hospitality shocked me somewhat as I ushered her into the reading room.

“Can I offer you a drink of something?”

“I think we should just get on with it. You call yourself a medium? We’ll see.”

I stared at her, asking myself if I should suggest she left. Clearly she had no intention of being here for a reading. I told her to sit down while I reached for the Crystal. Placing it once more on pewter stand I looked into it, briefly glancing up at my client. The only thing I saw in the Crystal was a newspaper. Typical. No spirit was present at that time.

“Would you like me to give you a formal reading? Are you here to see if we can contact a loved one?” My question was genuine, I often asked sceptical clients how they felt.

“You should know I will be doing a piece on you. It won’t be pleasant reading because I don’t believe a word of what you say.”

“Then perhaps we should draw a close to the reading now. I don’t wish any confrontation in my home.” I touched the Crystal. My hands came alive with electricity, a shock I had felt only a few times before during particularly difficult readings.

As a picture began to form in my mind I could see Ms Delaney standing over a pile of newspapers, laughing and jeering, a man standing nearby. Unfortunately, I could not make out the man’s face. Yet he looked familiar. He was tall also, brown hair, slightly grey in parts. An uncomfortable feeling was rushing through my stomach as I prayed hard for spirit presence, any spirit presence to join us and prove to this woman that I was genuine. Not for a long time had I felt this way.

“Can you see anything then?” she asked with sarcasm in her voice.

“I can see you and a pile of newspapers.” I knew I sounded predictable but I never lied about what I saw in the Crystal, unless it was death.

“Has anyone joined us? Can you hear any noises?"

“Please relax, I feel you are tense. There really is no need to be.” I decided to stay calm. I could not show this woman that she had caused me anxiousness. I was determined not to let my discomfort show as she continued to sit cross legged in her chair, completely unaware of the spirit I was beginning to feel had come forward.

“You really are a fake, aren’t you. I’ve never known such nonsense in all my life.” She sniggered, adjusting her jacket and folding her arms. She was terribly rude and I was tempted to just close the reading down. I found her increasingly difficult to tune into. Many clients came to see me feeling nervous and I usually had the ability, and the experience, to make them feel at ease within five minutes of coming into my home. Julia Delaney however, was a challenge.

“You should know that there is a spirit in the room with us. I do not yet know who it is and I would ask you once again to relax.... try to help me determine their identity.”

“How am I supposed to do that?” Another snigger.

“By keeping quiet. Just for a few minutes so that I can adjust my mind into understanding what I am dealing with.” The spirit was making it almost impossible for me to communicate. I asked silently for my grandmother to protect me as I feared the soul was not to be reckoned with.

The problem was, I had not sensed my grandmother at all during the short time Ms Delaney and myself were in the reading room. Ms Delaney looked at me, her eyes cold and determined.

“You are not wanted in this village. Your ways are offending the residents and people are talking about you. When I send this to print you will no doubt be forced to leave.” Abuse did not affect me. My guard was slightly rocked however, when she continued to almost order me from my own home.

Upon standing from her seat, picking up the file she had carried, she turned towards the door. I wanted the spirit to communicate so that I could show this despicable woman that she was wrong about me. My prayers were soon to be answered.

“I suggest you stay away from the Reverend too. He is not right for you and I can assure you he will not want to know you once he reads the paper.” These words shocked me more than any other she had spoken in the fifteen minutes of being in her presence.

Why should she tell me to stay away from Marcus? Who did she think she was, coming into my home, telling me what I could and could not do? I began to feel angry, a feeling I rarely had. Of course I had been accused of being a fake, by many non-believers, but words just went through me, they did not affect my ability to communicate.

As Ms Delaney turned on her heels once more, it all happened so fast; one of the candles on the mantelpiece fell to the floor, the small flame setting light to my hearth rug. I jumped up from my chair, frantically stamping my foot on the small fire which threatened to cause damage to my sacred room. The spirit was clearly angry, perhaps at Ms Delaney’s words, maybe at my own annoyance. This worried me. I did not welcome angry spirits into my home, I made sure my protective light deterred them from getting through. It was now clear that this spirit was stronger than my grandmother and had manifested in order to prove to Julia Delaney that there is indeed a life after death.

©CJ 2008

A Tribute

It has become obvious that Amy has adopted a new set of grandparents. Being as young spirited as they are has given her an amazing confidence in order to feel totally at ease in their company. They are just two people, completely committed to each other who are able to give their life time of love to my big-little girl. We have become firm friends in such a short space of time and have shared many hours together, talking and laughing as though we have been friends for years. In a way, I think we have. We just never knew it. The adorable couple I write about are Mr and Mrs Billy.

They have welcomed me into their lives with open arms and have doted on Amy right from the first time they met her. Amy can be a difficult child to get to know sometimes. There are certain people in her life to whom she will not speak. She will only whisper to some which makes conversation rather strained. I have been lucky so far in that the people I mention do know Amy and have accepted her unconditionally. Mr and Mrs Billy have also accepted her in this way only Amy is thrilled to be a part of their lives. She loves going to see them, ensuring that Mr Billy never forgets his hugging duty. He points to his cheek and Amy gives him a kiss. Followed by a loving hug for Mrs Billy.

To witness my daughter's confidence with these two lovely people has delighted me over the time we have known them. Mrs Billy made a chocolate cake on our first visit to their house some weeks ago. She left smarties and jelly tots by the side of it, allowing Amy to finish off the decorations. Amy was thrilled, completely over the moon at this generosity and thoroughly enjoyed tasting it afterwards. Mrs Billy wrapped the remaining pieces up in tin foil and gave them to Amy to take home. I think she saved a piece for the farmer. It was all a blur.

The second time we visited the Billy household, Mrs Billy had once again made a chocolate cake of which half had been eaten before we arrived. Amy, in her confidence, went straight to the cake and asked politely if she could have a piece. I felt a little uncomfortable. I have always been brought up to wait to be asked and I have tried to practice this on Amy. However, I could not help but smile when Mrs Billy replied, "I made it for you, of course you can have some," before wrapping the remaining pieces up in tin foil once more.

Whenever we go to Mr and Mrs Billy's house, Amy asks to play upstairs. Apart from being particularly nosey (not sure who she gets that from), she is very inquisitive and to my relief, neither Mr or Mrs Billy thought anything of it, chuckled and watched her totter out of the kitchen. That is why Amy feels happy when in their company. She does not have to put on an act; watch her p's and q's, even when my evil eye tells her to; she can ask for a drink, a piece of cake, to play upstairs and even though she always uses her manners, can join in our conversation any time and be sure that Mr and Mrs Billy will listen intently, without judging or treating her any differently.

Amy's grandma lives in Greater Manchester and her nana of whom she sees very little, lives in Cheshire. We try to spend as much time as we can visiting my mum and we always try to see Amy's nana but having permanent grandparents is something Amy has never really got used to. We might only get to see Mr and Mrs Billy once a fortnight, maybe more if we're lucky, but it 'aint 'arf worth it when we do.

A Walk in the Fields

After a rather difficult few days, I gathered up the dogs, grabbed my camera and took myself round our beautiful fields. Here is a selection of photographs I took on my walk. Apologies if it takes ages to load them up! To me, they're worth it.


A view of the Cheviot Hills in the distance. Part of the Northumberland National Park.

The farmer has walked them many times but I prefer just to look at them from a distance!






This is one of the many old water troughs on our farm land. I don't know how old it is but I would guess it's at least a couple of hundred years old.









Molly sat perfectly still, the poser that she is. Sparky, on the other hand, was moving closer to the camera. The picture came out quite well in the end though.







Rolling hills. You can see some of our sheep in the distance on what has been aptly named by my lovely husband as "tit hill". I'll leave you to work it out. The best picture would have been from a different angle. However, you can see Bamburgh Castle in the far distance. If you are able to click on the picture it is a beautiful view.




Home Sweet Home. Every where looks so lush at this time of year. My office window is the one on the end, next to the satellite dish.

Hope you enjoyed a short tour around my farm. It has cleared my head and I am looking forward to going out again tomorrow.