Farm Walk

Amy asked me recently; "when was grandma born, was it in 18 something?"  I had to laugh.  I sometimes wonder if it was 18 something myself.  I haven't seen my mum since my birthday last December.  We speak to each other regularly on the phone and she's been taught a hundred times how to text, but it does't sink in.  I guess some understand, some don't.  I suspect it's from her that I get my unbelievable lack of technical knowledge.  Being born in 18 something can't have helped towards the understanding of the mobile phone, or indeed t'internet. The last time my mum came to the farm she brought her best ivory coloured, sheep skin jacket.  She spent an hour stood at the sink washing off dirty paw prints.

Amy helped me to do a vlog; a conversation about cameras and dogs, and apart from the end where it gets particularly dodgy and Amy almost has a meltdown, most of it has come out relatively okay.  (Minus makeup, in regular dirty farm clothes, and Amy talking too. Amy did the filming and I think she's done a really good job.)