Where was I? Yes, that. And then lambing started. Hell but it's been bloody tiring this year. It must be because I'm getting older, as there weren't any more complications than usual, and only one lamb has ended up on the bottle - a runty triplet that arrived late and was promptly rejected by the mother. Still, one or 10, the buggers still have to be fed, so it's up at three every morning to stagger out to the lambing shed, get butted and splashed with milk (which always smells appetising the first time you smell it - like fancy ice cream - but which soon cloys after a few night feeds).
Just two ewes left now, both bloody huge, like sagging zeppelins, and both doing little more than eat, crap and pant. In their position I'd be hard put to do anything more, I'll admit.
Anyway, that's my whinge/excuse. I had sorely hoped to get lambing finished by this weekend to enjoy a break in Devon, but it wasn't to be. Arse.