At the time of writing (Sunday 9th) there are just 2 woollies left to lamb and I have the usual, painful mouth ulcers and hacks on my hands which, combined with mental and physical weariness, are an annual occupational hazard of sheep farming. It’s been a very good hit of lambs, with minimal problems and fatalities and the weather has been reasonably co-operative so we have been able to get them out to grass according as they’re ready to go. I didn’t take any time off from my caring work this year. Previously I used to carry over most of my annual leave so I could take time off for lambing, but this year I have no skin in the game, having sold my own flock to put towards my house. There’s nothing in the sheep work for me this year, apart from whatever enjoyment I get from it, so I wasn’t prepared to forfeit my income to swell Himself’s bank balance. Work is particularly demanding and tiring these weeks since my long-time co-worker moved on to a new job. There are new staff to be trained-in every few days and you’re constantly alert and having to think for two. I miss the easy camaraderie of the old routine where we almost knew what each other was thinking and could work in total unison.
