I went to my first ever Eurovision party last weekend. Coincidentally, it was Lissie’s birthday. Lissie had children at the same time as Valerie and me and she’s also Christadelphian. I remember her children as toddlers, so it was lovely to meet them now they’re young adults. Val and I (well mostly Val) made a birthday cake. I definitely need to get some icing/piping equipment so I can do this again!
Eurovision was as mad as it usually is. We had Prosecco and strawberries along with pizza and other munchies, but the highlight was Valerie doing the Bangaranga dance around the living room with Lissie’s son, Jonathan.
I came to Yorkshire on Tuesday night. Mum and I had dentist appointments on Wednesday, so I now have lovely, clean teeth and no fillings, which is always a relief. Ben was on holiday, so he had passed an APHA pre movement blood test and flock inspection on to me for Friday. That was in Penrith, so rather than going back to Dunfermline on Thursday (a crazy amount of driving) I asked whether I could have some visits in Cumbria for Thursday. He gave me two more visits to do, so I had a pleasant couple of days, meeting new clients and looking at their chickens and hens.
My knowledge is still patchy, but what I do have is a new set of eyes and an interest in problem solving, so I hope that I will be able to bring something new to the farmers in my region. I also just like talking to people, and farmers are some of the best. Ben had told me one of the farm managers talked to her hens. My immediate reaction was that she and I would get on well and meeting her didn’t change that opinion. I have promised to take her some chicken pens next time I go, so I’d better put some aside before they all disappear.
Yesterday was a beautiful warm day. It really felt like summer for the first time this year. Driving through the Dales was just an added benefit.
Today, I walked Triar around Settle. As always, at this time of year, it is filled with flowers. Mum, Dad, Triar and I then walked to The Folly for coffee and cake. I had an almond croissant. Very nice, though the coffee was so hot, I didn’t even try to drink it until I’d finished the croissant. I know some people prefer their coffee piping hot, but I prefer mine to be drinkable as soon as I get it.
Anyway, I shall leave you with some photos from my morning dog walk. Hope you have a good week and thanks for reading.
Last weekend already feels like half a lifetime ago, but last weekend, for the second time in my life, I was baptised. The first time, back when I was living in Ilkley in 1993, I felt washed clean and whole. I’d had a hard time and some bad relationships at university and it felt like a whole new start. This time, it felt more like a renewal. For years in Norway, our church attendance as a family lapsed. That is something I regret now, but it is a recurring realisation in my life that we can never go back and fix things and can only move on from where we are now. I have a chequered history, but now I have joined the Christadelphian faith and I am trying to be a better person. I know that Christianity is reviled by many in modern society, but for me it is something to hold onto in a world that is moving too quickly.
Monday was spent in Dunfermline, but on Tuesday, almost the entire Inchcolm staff decanted to Birmingham, where we had a stand at the Pig and Poultry Fair at the NEC.
If you look closely at the centre right of the photo, behind the table, you will see that we arrived with some traditional Scottish fare, as well as with a lot of leaflets and some pens that would prove to be very popular.
I knew it would be difficult representing Inchcolm, having only been with them for a few weeks, but as the two days passed, I became more comfortable in explaining the role I hoped to take and the other staff were there to answer questions about how everything worked and the full extent of the services we offer. Most of the exhibitors were offering some kind of merchandise and it became obvious that some were being sought after more than others. One of the drug companies had coveted pig and chicken balloons, another company was offering handy carrying boxes, some had fabulous food (I’m going to put in a quick shout out to Griffith’s eggs, who had a chef, who made me a delicious omelette) but it became quickly apparent that our chicken pens were one of the most popular items. Fortunately, we had a lot of them, and could keep up with all the visitors who came just for that. After the long days, we went out together for food. The first two nights we went to a pub near the house we were staying in. The food was unremarkable, though I did have a lovely waffle with ice cream and Biscoff.
On the last night though, we went to The Boat at Catherine de Barnes which was in an entirely different class. The menu was so good that it was difficult to choose, but bream has long been my favourite fish and I have no regrets in having chosen Black Bream with Crushed Lemon Potatoes and Samphire in Sriracha Mussel Butter. Delicious!
There had been some discussion about the fact that battered fish was served, in that part of the world, with skin on the fish (a travesty – surely soggifying the batter) but the bream skin was perfectly salted and fried to a delectable crispness. The potatoes were soft and succulent with no hint of dryness. They contrasted well with the mild crunch of the samphire. I followed up with a British cheese board so full that almost everyone at the table shared it. I somehow failed to take a photo, but as well as one blue cheese, two red and two white, there was quince jelly, fig relish and some very crispy cranberry and raisin crackers. I know some will think me a philistine, drinking red wine with fish, but the large glass of Rioja I had chosen went well with both courses and I finished up with Bailey’s coffee which rounded off an almost perfect night.
The house we stayed in should have been fabulous, but in truth, it was more funny than fun. I’d been told when I first joined Inchcolm about the rented house with its massage beds and projectors in every room. Add in electronic toilets with automatically lifting lids and heated seats. Add in space age showers with a multitude of knobs and functions.
Someone obviously had a whale of a time, importing electronic gear and dreaming of a futuristic abode with all mod cons. Unfortunately, they forgot the basics. I sat on my space-age toilet (mine didn’t actually work anyway – no regrets) and (am)mused on the fact that they’d forgotten to provide a toilet roll holder, so it stood in one of the shelves in the cabinet.
There were no curtains or blinds and on the third night, we couldn’t turn out the lights on the outside of the house, so I had to jam a towel over the edge of the window to keep the room dark enough to sleep. The cabinet with the toilet roll overhung the small sink so that I had to bend awkwardly to spit out my toothpaste. Still, it was clean and tidy and the beds were comfortable. Those things matter more!
Anyway I had better go. I’m going to a Eurovision night tonight and Valerie and I will be making a fox birthday cake for one of Val’s friends as it’s her birthday. Next week, I’m going to be out on the road more, so there’s plenty to look forward to.
Thanks for reading and I hope you have a good week.
Light switch. Once the lights were out, I didn’t touch it again… just in case!
It’s been a month now since I started working at Inchcolm Vets as a poultry vet. I’ve learned an enormous amount already, but as I’m still based in Dunfermline, it’s also been a month since I’ve been living at home. This week however, on Thursday, my much delayed carpets were laid and so I spent Wednesday and Thursday nights in Dumfries.
I’m very pleased with the carpets. The stairs and one of the bedrooms are now resplendently burnt orange. I may shortly be open for visitors again, assuming I actually move back there some time (working, linked up laptop still required).
But rather than spending time in the house, I spent most of my time doing a quick garden tidy. Of the three terraces, I’m only marginally in control of the top one. Ecologists recommending letting gardens run wild would be proud of me. My neighbours, perhaps not so much. Anyway, as well as strimming and mowing the lawn (which, by the way, was ominously white in patches, due to an excess of dandelion seeds) I planted some plants I had bought with Valerie a couple of weeks back.
Regular readers will remember that, back in March, I dug quite a bit of ground elder out of a smallish flowerbed that had become over (and very much under) run. Post Different
Inevitably, given I hadn’t finished digging it all out (and anyway, removing it all is almost impossible) a lot of it had regrown. I had planted some geraniums, in an attempt to compete with the ground elder and, pleasingly, they seem to be surviving and one even has some small flowers on it.
Anyway, I dug out some more and planted my new plants, watered them well, and now have abandoned them to their fate. Only time will tell!
I also planted some small plants in the three pots by the back door. Currently these are still dominated by the daffodil leaves. There’s a woman at the other end of the street, who has two beautiful planters that she maintains year round, with plants of differing heights and colours, as well as gorgeous flowers. Maybe one day, I will learn too, but currently, mine look like this.
Learning to garden at 57 is fun. Better late than never!
Poultry vetting is also all new, albeit with a lot of background knowledge. I’ve only been out to one farm this week, but I thought, as I prepared for my visit, that most of my cases are going to be complex logic puzzles. When I was working with APHA, I often felt I was dealing with farmers who were probably having the worst day of their farming career and, though this week’s case probably wasn’t that bad, it was still severe.
There had been masses of deaths in a newly placed flock of broilers (rapidly maturing chickens, bred for meat). They started to die, in huge numbers, soon after being placed in the shed. There were three sheds on the farm. Two of the sheds were filled with perfectly healthy, fast growing chicks. The third was a disaster zone.
I read up on possible causes before going there. It seemed there were two likely scenarios. One was that the eggs were infected and the poor chicks had arrived loaded with bacteria they were never going to survive. The second was that, for some reason, the chicks had failed to find the water drinkers or had otherwise not managed to drink. My job then was to find out whether either of these fit. If not, it would be much more complicated, but that would be a whole new story.
The first thing I asked on arriving was who had been looking after the chicks over the weekend when they arrived. Ben (one of Inchcolm’s partners, alongside Eduardo) had told me it was not uncommon, after a weekend, for farmers to report a problem, only to discover that the weekend worker had failed to follow the normal routines and had missed a feed, or similar. With birds that grow so fast, it doesn’t take much to disrupt them.
That was quickly ruled out. The farmer had been caring for all three sheds himself. Nothing had gone wrong. Preparation for all three sheds had gone to plan. The sheds had been preheated to 30°C as they should. Water lines and drinkers had been checked. Feed had been provided appropriately so that it was easy for the chicks to find.
I double checked the water intake, which the farmer records daily. Though the chicks in shed 3 had drunk a little less than the other two, they hadn’t drunk significantly less. With the water theory ruled out, I had to check the evidence related to problems at the hatchery the chicks came from. If the chicks in sheds 1 and 2 were from the same batch, then it was more likely to be something that happened after they arrived.
But the evidence there was clear. Sheds 1 and 2 were from different parent flocks. The birds in shed 3 were from parents which were 26 weeks old. 1 and 2 were from rather older parents. Quite apart from the possibility of infection, chicks from younger parents are harder to look after as they are a little slower to regulate their body temperature (see how much there is to learn here!).
So before I even went into the sheds, or saw a single chick, I already had a lot of clues as to where the problem probably lay. And when I went into the sheds, they were lovely, clean and warm. The chicks were well spread out, which means they are not too hot and not too cold. The litter underfoot was dry: no sign of catastrophic water leaks or flooding. Everything was still pointing to infection.
I did a post-mortem on six birds and the signs were obvious. These tiny chicks showed all the signs of severe infection. Given they had started to die so soon after they arrived, it was almost certainly a problem in the hatchery. The farmer had done everything he could, but the whole thing had been horribly put in train before the chicks were delivered.
I wanted bacteriology done, but I wasn’t going back to Inchcolm for over 24 hours, so I popped into the SRUC lab in Dumfries when I got back. I had hoped they could do bacteriology on some samples I had taken. However, after speaking to one of the vets there, it seemed it would be much better for the farmer to take some birds into the APHA lab in Penrith. This was actually a better solution as, if the farmer wanted to claim compensation from the hatchery (which I hope he does) then an independent assessment would be massively helpful.
The vets at Penrith were super-helpful. I arranged for the farmer to drop off chicks on Thursday and they rang me with preliminary results on the same day, then sent a preliminary report yesterday. It confirmed my finding – that these poor chicks were overwhelmed with infection, likely E. coli.
This isn’t a happy story. I hadn’t just read up on the investigation. I’d also read up on treatment and the reality is, that for tiny chicks like these, where they were infected while still in the egg, there’s nothing you can really give that helps. Ben had given antimicrobials as soon as the problem raised its head and I left a vitamin B supplement to try to help, but really the improvements needed are in the hatchery. Both Eduardo and Ben had told me this when I first arrived. If the UK broiler industry really wants to cut down on antimicrobial use, then the improvements need to start there. In my first few weeks, almost all the problems I have seen have involved birds that arrived on the farm already infected. Whether anything can be done about that is another story, but I am already thinking about possibilities. I have come from Norway, where almost no antibiotics are used in poultry production, so it isn’t impossible.
Ah well. Tilting at windmills is something to be done while I’m still new to all this. I don’t have many tools, but my mind is already working on it. I’m wondering whether APHA might have some levers. Nothing wrong with giving it a try. Meanwhile, my poor farmer is the one weathering the storm.
I will leave you with a picture of the delicious Cumberland sausage in a roll I had at Cairn Lodge Services on my travels. There’s something very satisfying about putting a spiral sausage in a roll. It’s much less likely to fall out than two traditional sausages.
Thanks for reading and I hope you have a good week.
The remainder of my weekend in Armagh was very pleasing. Lara and I went to the Titanic Museum in Belfast. It would have been more enjoyable if six coach parties hadn’t been trying to look at the exhibits at the same time as us, but it was still interesting. They had all the witness statements from survivors on a huge wall. I only read a couple, but would be interested to read more. I expect I can find them somewhere online, if ever I have the time and inclination simultaneously!
In the evening, Lara introduced me to her pizza oven. Rather like the rambling, Victorian house, the garden and something I want to call the Mews (a lane round to some ramshackle garages – though those belonging to Lara and Mark have been rebooted, as it were) feel like a pleasant wander through a slightly overgrown past. The neighbours garden is filled with forget-me-nots. The yard where the pizza oven resides is overlooked by vines growing up the ancient wall and an apple tree (I think) festooned with multicoloured Christmas lights.
The blue door in the photo, as you might expect, leads to a room with a drum kit and a jukebox. Up a vertical ladder, in the roof space, is a miniature cinema. What a delightful house to grow up in!
The pizzas were predictably wonderful. Lara and I had bought toppings on our way back from Belfast. I’d suggested blue cheese with walnuts and honey, so with a creamy chunk of Cambazola and a handful of nuts, this one tasted wonderful.
More contentious, though equally delicious was the chocolate pizza Lara put together for dessert. She tells me she had to perfect the technique, which involves partially cooking the base first, then adding Nutella and chocolate, cooking some more, then adding the marshmallows for a final toasting. The result was a wonderful, melting concoction, not too sweet: utterly delicious.
I returned to Airth on Sunday night with a promise that I would return. Lara is arranging a McGonagall night as a kind of Scots Poetry balance to Burns night. I agreed to do a reading, though I will probably want to go with one of the more traditional Silvery Tay poems.
Sunday night was also punctuated by an unexpected call from my new boss, Eduardo. I told him about blogging yesterday afternoon and his response was, “Make me famous!” He’s kind of the opposite if a shrinking violet, so that wasn’t too much of a surprise. He cautioned me about client confidentiality and I assured him that I understood and respect that concept completely. Anyway, back to Sunday night.
He texted me just as I was leaving the airport, asking for a chat about Cumbria. I wanted to drive back with a clear mind, so I drove all the way to the edge of Airth, then pulled into the road to Airth Castle and called him. With hindsight, I think he was hoping I would volunteer to do it myself on Monday, but I missed that nuance and we discussed possibly going together on a different day. Anyway, a few seconds after ringing off, I got a text asking me to go solo. Slightly daunting I thought, but never having been one to shy away from a challenge, I agreed to meet him in the morning at the practice to collect kit and discuss approach, then I would do the call in the afternoon.
So much for all the promised training and expected introductions. First flights are always an adventure. I looked at the chickens, then carried out some post-mortems. It involved a lot of glove changes as I was taking photographs throughout. The liver and kidneys looked very odd, but I didn’t know what that indicated. I have a lot of useful and relevant experience, but once I was finished, I had to send the pictures to my other new boss. He asked me, “Do you understand what you are seeing?” Honesty is always the best policy, so I simply said, “No.”
Apparently my distinctive photos were enough for distance diagnosis. The birds had adenovirus. Back at the office, a treatment regime was assembled and sent out, while I washed my hands on the farm and discussed the fact that I would find out about cleaning regimes (and adenovirus) and would get back to them with the information the next day.
I learned a few things that day, other than about adenovirus. The most obvious one was that medicines are sent out from the clinic at around three thirty in the afternoon, so if I want farmers to get their treatment the same day, I either need to correctly predict what I need and take it with me, or I need to complete my visit before the three thirty deadline.
I must confess that, on the way back up the road, I sighed rather as I passed Gretna and realised that, instead of the thirty minute drive home, there were still two hours of motorway driving ahead of me. I sent Valerie my ETA and drove on.
Speaking to a friend on Tuesday evening, we discussed the fact that, in so many jobs, thorough training is offered along with mentoring and introductions. What actually happens is that something crops up and you are asked to go out because it’s busy and afterwards, there is no reversion to the plan. Once you’re out there, that’s it. This prediction proved correct as when I went in on Wednesday, I was asked to go out to two more cases. I can’t say I have any regrets. At 23 years old, the first time I stepped solo into veterinary work, I didn’t know if I would cope. At 57, it’s difficult to hold me back. I love fieldwork and I learn by doing. I’ll not forget what adenovirus looks like, which is just as well as I saw it again on Wednesday. There’s still a long way to go, but I love the journey. A steep learning curve (and the expansion of the mind that accompanies it) fills me with joy.
On Thursday evening, after a twelve hour day on Wednesday, I was exhausted, but Valerie persuaded me out for a fish and chip supper beside the cherry blossom trees in Dollar. What a magical evening, sitting on a picnic rug, shaded by trees, listening to the calming flow of the water.
Back in the office on Friday, I also told Naomi and Eleanor that I write a blog. They agreed it was fine with them. They’ve made me feel wonderfully welcome, so I’m glad it’s okay. There are a couple more people to ask, but hopefully I can do that next week. Naomi, as well as being a whizz on the topic of stressed hens does Fat Friday in the office. The photo at the top of the page was yesterday’s loaded fries. They were indeed, extremely loaded, as you see! I showed Val the picture and she says I have to order some and bring them back to eat one evening. That will definitely not be any hardship (assuming they do food in the evenings).
Anyway, after all that food, I’m looking forward to a weekend in Settle. Who knows what that will hold. In the meantime, thanks for reading and I hope you have a good week.
I’m writing this from a narrow bed in the drawing room of Lara Wilson’s home in Armagh. Around a year ago, Lara invited me over and, so busy are our respective lives, that it’s taken all that time to get round to it, but here I am. From what I’ve seen so far, it’s a fascinating old house, built in more gracious times, back when convenient plumbing was actually having a WC indoors, that actually flushed. The sink is in a more modern looking bathroom next door.
I imagine Lara knows more about the history of the house, including how long she and her family have owned it, but we arrived after midnight, having spent yesterday evening at the AVSPNI dinner in the Europa Hotel in Belfast. Until yesterday, I’d never heard of AVSPNI, but it stands for (having to look this up as I’m writing – hope you appreciate the effort!) Association of Veterinary Surgeons Practising in Northern Ireland.
It was part of a conference that we didn’t attend and Lara hadn’t mentioned it was black tie (apparently with the theme “sparkle”) so Lara and I were slightly underdressed for the occasion, but it didn’t seem to matter. We were there because Lara is standing for a position on the RCVS council (you probably know that one, but it stands for Royal College of Veterinary Surgeons) and wanted to speak to the great and the good in NI, hopefully to gather more votes.
I will say that the Europa Hotel certainly puts on a good bash. The food at these big events can sometimes be less than excellent, but the meal was fabulous and served seamlessly, so all the tables were catered for with admirable efficiency. Obviously I’ll have to share the menu with you!
The starter was Glenarm Smoked Salmon Roulade with dill pickle, tarragon crème fraiche and water cress. I was fortunate enough to have two of these. There was a spare seat beside me and my neighbour, two seats to the right had put her handbag on the seat between us. This apparently fooled the waiting staff into believing someone was sitting there, which happily continued throughout the meal. The roulade was delicious enough that I enjoyed my double portion.
24 Hour Braised Beef followed. We were in Ireland, so I was pleased to see there were two different types of potato on the plate. Can’t beat a good Irish potato! I’m no longer able to eat double my weight in food, so this course was passed round the table, but the meat was so tender that you could cut it with the proverbial spoon.
And to finish there was a dark chocolate torte. Very nice indeed, rich and full of bitter chocolate tones.
All in all it was a good meal. There was a band to follow, who played an eclectic mix of songs. The move from Suspicious Minds to Galway Girl was achieved via Abba and Erasure and Lara ran off to dance, while I danced more lazily in my chair. She did try an introduction circuit for me, but the band was loud enough to make introductions complicated, and she was better able to persuade people to her cause without having to shout who I was in people’s ears. I’m sufficiently self contained these days that I was happy to people watch while doing a tap-footing seated dance in happy comfort.
Travelling here yesterday was quite an experience too. Lara had booked tickets with RyanAir and I had carefully packed my bag with the assumption that its size might be interrogated to within an inch of its life. What I hadn’t thought to check was whether my Norwegian driving licence was adequate photo ID. I was in the office yesterday morning, looking forward to getting a Fat Friday carry out lunch, when it crossed my mind I ought to double check. That was when I discovered that RyanAir only accept passports and national identity cards, even on domestic trips. I was north of the Forth Estuary and my passport was two hours away in Dumfries, so I had to call my brand new boss and ask for permission to leave with immediate effect. Fortunately the traffic gods smiles on me and I arrived at Edinburgh Airport to see Lara getting onto the car park bus.
Security was interesting, not because of any fuss about my bag dimensions, but because Lara was carrying some work equipment that showed up on the X-ray. She often carries the doggy equivalent of those CPR models that are used to teach CPR, but this time, she went one better and had some faje dog skulls that are to be used teaching people how to take good radiographs. Obviously this caused some confusion and she had to unpack her bag. An interesting diversion on what was otherwise a smooth trip through the airport.
It’s been a good week at work. I still haven’t mentioned blogging to my new colleagues, so I won’t say too much, but I am impressed so far with their knowledge and professionalism. I’m also picking up useful tips on how to detect flickering lights that might upset chickens (use the slow -mo on your phone apparently) and I know which technician to refer the farmers to if they’re not sure how to get rid of rats or if their hens won’t take their medicine!
And now, I have to go. Somewhere, outside in the multi-storey hallway, a voice announced that breakfast will be at nine, so I’d better get dressed.
Hope you’ve enjoyed this whistle stop tour of my Northern Irish adventure, which is only just beginning. Thanks for reading and I hope you have a good week!
It’s been a pleasant enough week, if rather quiet. Monday was my last day with APHA. A group of us went out for lunch at Dolce Vita Restaurant in Dumfries. They have a wood oven, so I decided to have pizza. I swithered between haggis and red onion or pepperoni, but in the end, I went with pepperoni and didn’t regret it.
I received some lovely gifts. I’d recently bought a flower vase, so I thought I had things covered, but it turned out I didn’t. I don’t think I’ve ever received three bunches of flowers in one day before, but I felt very loved.
I also got two lovely china mugs, one with Highland cows, the other with those teddy-bear sheep with black faces and floofy white pom-pom foreheads. There were also scented candles, chocolate and sweets and a fabulous painted slate from Lauren.
Last, but not least, Scott the local authority inspector gave me his walking stick. He lent me it when we were climbing down a steep bank in the woods back in November and I discovered how useful a sturdy stick can be when you’re fifty six and your balance and ankles are not quite as good as they were when you were in your twenties. I’d asked him where I could buy one, having looked and not found a worthy successor. Instead of telling me, he gave me his own. It’s in the car now, waiting to be used.
At the end of the afternoon, I handed back my computer, my work phone, my door key and all my ID cards. It left me with an odd and empty feeling. My job has been a huge part of who I am for the last two years. It crossed my mind that usually, the last day at work heralds the upheaval of a house move and lots to do with a short deadline. This time, there was work to be done and things to organise, but nothing urgent.
I have done a few things through the week. My mortgage has come up for renewal and my advisor has found me a new provider, so there were lots of documents to send off. I’ve tried to sort out my Norwegian tax, though I will have to chase up the message I sent. The lack of an email acknowledgement suggests it hasn’t been received. Norwegian authorities normally do everything by the book.
My car also got a new (well technically second hand) steering rack yesterday. I hadn’t realised how heavy the steering had got until I drove away from the garage and suddenly found I could steer the car with one finger again. Apparently the steering rack on my car has a computer at each side, which means it is constantly calculating how to help. Thanks very much to Aker’s garage for keeping my much-loved car going for a bit longer.
I’m writing this on Friday night, because tomorrow I’m heading up to Glasgow to meet some almost ex colleagues. I’m about to be locked in an escape room with them, so my new employers had better hope that we get out in time! Technically they’re not quite ex colleagues yet, because my last day is the 9th April. I’m really going to miss them.
So I shall leave you with my best wishes for a lovely Easter. After a sunrise communion service at church on Sunday, I will be heading down for lunch at my parents’. Helen and Corinna are there and we are going to have haggis. Happily, I managed to source a veggie version so everyone can get their fix of Scottish food. Not your typical Easter feast admittedly, but it will be delicious nonetheless. I may have accidentally picked up some Irving’s sultana drop biscuits as well. Irving’s was a great bakery, many years ago when I lived in Castle Douglas and it seems that standards have not dropped!
Thank you for reading and I hope you have a good week.
Some weeks, this blog almost writes itself, but I can tell this isn’t going to be one of them. Very little has happened and the most exciting picture I have for the top of the page is of the lemon curd tart I bought in Costa at Southwaite Services as I drove home from Yorkshire last Sunday. It was, at least, a nice tart. The pastry had a pleasant crispiness, the lemon flavour was tangy and it was well complemented by the milky coffee. I would recommend it, if you are in the mood and can’t find a local cafe that serves your needs.
At work, my week was broken up by meetings, appointments and duty vet. On Monday there was our monthly team meeting. In the past, this was often in Ayr, but Ayr office has been unusable for some time now, so everyone comes to us in Dumfries. The afternoon was enlivened by a spontaneous Yoga session, where Lesley showed Tommy a few moves.
Wednesday, I went to Hamilton for a face fitting. The FFP3 masks we use when dealing with a lot of dust or low levels of viruses have to fit well or they simply don’t work, so they attach the mask to a tube that measures breathing, then put us through a series of contortions as we simulate walking, to check that whatever we do, the mask doesn’t leak. It’s quite good exercise and I was quite glad I passed first time. If you don’t, the mask has to be adjusted and you have to go through the whole rigmarole again.
Yesterday, I was duty vet. It was quiet for most of the morning, then in the afternoon, one of my routine cases threw up a big piece of work at almost exactly the same time that a complicated new TB case came in. Much of the time, I’d say I work efficiently, but when that sort of load falls on me, I can manage so much and then it all seems to come to a standstill. At that point, I need clear instructions and the checklist I was using for dealing with the TB case had loads of extraneous instructions because the case handling had been started at an abattoir in England. Trying to work out which steps I had to carry out and which had already been done was more complicated than I needed it to be. Still, in the end I got there and did a couple of extra tasks that will ease the farmer’s progress through the process, which is something I always work hard to achieve.
On the housing front, the decorator has finally finished the bedrooms and hallway. My long, long building project is close to being complete. I got the hall painted white and it looks glaring right now, but I am starting to have ideas about where to hang paintings and what to do to break up the blank walls. The glorious new varnished wood in the bedrooms has given me a hankering to replace the dark, orangey brown wood in the hallway though. The joiner inspected my kitchen and bathroom doors and said he could come back and change them, so perhaps he could do some work in the hall too. However, the next steps are carpeting and getting the light fittings put in. After that, I can decide what to do next!
So that’s really it for this week. I’m on call, so the weekend ahead may be quiet, restful and boring, or if a case comes in, it may be the exact opposite. Only time will tell. But for now, thanks for reading, and I hope you have a good week.
Another weekend is here, and looking back through my photos, most of them are of food! It would be fair to say that, when I’m out walking round a chilly farmyard all day, it is lovely to get back to a hotel, where someone else will cook for me. The picture at the top of the page was a starter – chicken skewers. I followed it up with sweet and sour prawns.
We were staying in the Premier Inn in Ayr, which was very pleasant. I know there are other staff who prefer to go out and find different restaurants to eat in, but for me the benefits of simply walking downstairs and being fed are too tempting to resist. Although the food is obviously mass prepared (it’s fairly consistent from hotel to hotel) I can usually find something I want to eat. I discovered the sweet and sour in Brighton and I would order it again.
I had to laugh at Lesley’s (the animal health officer who had arranged the trip) main course. She had ordered the chicken skewers as a main. I saw it came with flatbread, but hadn’t twigged that there were chips too. What turned up was a plate of chicken skewers (pretty succulent and with that tangy yogurt dip) with a mega flatbread chip butty! Guess it was probably not much more carb overload than mine, with its white rice and sweet sauce, but it looked way less appetizing!
Lesley had booked the rooms and, for the first time ever, I had a Premier room in the Premier Inn. I was impressed to find both a fridge and a coffee machine in the room, though in the end, having tried to coffee machine with the small sachets of cold milk, I reverted to instant decaffeinated with lattes from the restaurant at breakfast. The little bars of chocolate were nice though.
The farm visits went well. We were blood testing the cattle for a TB Gamma test. The traditional test for TB has always been a skin test, where tuberculin (non infectious liquid, derived from the bacteria that cause tuberculosis) is injected into the neck, to see if it causes an immune response . While a positive skin reaction means it’s very likely the cow has tuberculosis, a non-reaction isn’t a good guarantee that she doesn’t have it. With the gamma test, some cows without TB might have a positive result, but it can pick up earlier infections and is more likely to identify animals with TB that the skin test would miss. We use these tests in combination where there is an outbreak, to try to ensure we get as many of the infected animals as possible.
Fortunately for me, we had a great team and I didn’t have to do too much of the testing. It’s a very physical job, either lifting the cow’s tail and taking blood from a vein that runs down the centre, or getting down on your knees and taking it from the neck. I did a lot of blood testing in the early years of my career because brucellosis testing was still routinely done in cattle, every three years. It seems it’s like riding a bike, because I can still do it, which is just as well because I was asked to step in a couple of times on animals where it was difficult to get blood. The relief when I managed was significant. As my main role was in supervising a new animal health officer who was learning, it wouldn’t look good if I couldn’t do it myself.
The bird flu outbreak is going on and on, though really February is possibly the worst month for it, so it’s not unexpected. I was duty vet yesterday and another two investigations came in. One of them sounded like a certainty, so it looks like our little team will continue to be busy in the coming weeks. I have learned a lot from my involvement last week, not least because I made some errors in case handling and didn’t collect anything like enough evidence for the tracings team. I had to go back and get additional information about exactly where manure had been spread from the farm, when feed had been delivered to each shed, where they got their bedding materials and when and to where had any carcasses been taken away, before the outbreak set in. On a big farm, there are a lot of comings and goings over twenty one days. I did gather the information, but I should have returned the day after I walked round the shed to look at the birds to ask a whole load more questions and to get copies of the paperwork showing all those interactions. Next time, I will have much better oversight. This is how I learn best. As well as being a huge farm, it was only my fourth ever investigation and my first to go positive, and so the steep learning curve goes on.
I had a lovely weekend with Valerie. As well as the hot tub, she introduced me to the addictive TV experience that is Traitors. We binge watched it and it was fascinating to see the damage done in a society when some are enabled and willing to lie and deceive and others (acting innocently) cause havoc and failure through their over-confidence in their skills and beliefs. Others yet, with unseen wisdom and less self-confidence, are ignored. I realise what we see is heavily edited to give a certain slant to things, but seeing the interplay when we know more of the truth than the contestants is very interesting indeed.
Anyway, I shall leave you with my one, single, scenic photo from Ayrshire. Scotland is very beautiful, even in the middle of a sullen, damp winter. Thank you for reading. I hope you have a good week.
During the winter months, it was always going to be hard to keep up with my walking intentions. I’ve mentioned before that, with WalkFit’s help, I was doing a regular 7,500 steps a day, with additional monthly challenges on top. I don’t know whether I might have kept it up if WalkFit hadn’t failed me, but with a combination of complete darkness outside of working hours and the onset of icy weather, which makes falling much more likely, I have not been keeping up with my intentions in the past week.
I did start well over the New Year break. Last week, I described my waterfall adventures and I had two lovely walks at the weekend. The first was up a path near Torthorwald which I found when looking for a different path, but went with it anyway. Triar and I ended up tramping 10,000 steps on some lovely tracks and backroads.
Sunday’s walk was a bit more limited, crammed in between church and a birthday celebration Donna held for me in the afternoon. It was another lovely day though, more backroad walking and some possible exploration for the future.
Work continues to be very up and down and that does have a bearing on my walking as well. As I mentioned above, the shortness of the days, combined with a workday where we are supposed to work from eight thirty until five leaves little time for walking in the sun. And some of my tasks, such as duty vet, which I did yesterday, leave me so exhausted and demoralised that there is little energy for anything other than slumping in front of the TV.
There are good days though. I like working on farms and with farmers. There are few places I would rather be than in a cow shed. There’s something about being among cattle that brings me a feeling of serenity. I realise I don’t instil the same feeling in them, but I do try! Sometimes, because of the nature of my cases, I have to spend time away from home and that probably happens most with TB cases. I’m dealing with two outbreaks at present and both are a couple of hours drive from Dumfries. I’ve named this week’s blog after the lunch I have most often when I’m working away from home.
On days when I work away from the office for more than five hours and less than ten, I’m allowed to claim £7 expenses for food and drink. Most cafes in Scotland offer some kind of soup and sandwich combination and as it is warming and cheap, that is the lunch I go for most often. The lunch in the picture was potato soup and a Brie and cranberry toastie and it was as rustic and delicious as it looks. The week after next, I will be spending two days at the same farm I visited this week to train a new animal health officer in blood sampling. I’ll be staying up there with some lovely colleagues, working on farm during the day, staying in a Premier Inn overnight. Those trips are undoubtedly the highlight of my job. I’m just hoping this time that it’s not too cold.
It seems that half of the UK is currently enveloped in snow, but here in Dumfries, nothing. I find it a bit disappointing after my years in the Arctic. Over there, it was perhaps too much of a good thing, but I miss the brightness it brings and I also have some fabulous spiky boots that aren’t really useful on ice as they need some depth to dig into!
Reading back, I’ve just realized I hadn’t explained how WalkFit let me down. It was always a bit of a poor programme. When I started, it offered a slow, medium or fast option, without any explanation of what those were. As I was fairly unfit at the time, I chose medium on the assumption that it would build up over time at a medium rate, probably to 10,000 steps a day. Instead, it started on 4,300 and built up , but then stopped at 7,500 steps, again without saying that was what it was doing. I waited quite a while before I realised that was it.
But 7,500 steps suited me well. It was relatively easy to stick to. With two “days off” allowed each week, I had been meeting my target steps for six months. And then my three monthly renewal fee came in. At £66 for what was a fairly limited program, it was not cheap, but it was working for me, so I went with it. And then they reset my program. Instead of continuing at 7,500 steps (as it had the first time I renewed) it started me back at 4,300.
I contacted them, of course I did, but the response was insulting. Instead of acknowledging that an error had been made, Nicole told me that the app “sets up daily goals for you based on your personal parameters”. She told me I could change my daily goals, but left it to me to find out that 7,500 was not an option. I could have whole thousands only and the only way to get back to 7,500 (with which I had been very happy) was to work up through the medium program again. Not only that, but it was obvious to me that the whole thing might happen again in three months.
I wrote again, explaining that it was obvious something had gone wrong and the reset should not have occurred. Nicole replied once more, saying “the app occasionally adjusts goals based on recent activity or completion of the personal plan”. As this was a bare faced lie, I decided (quite regretfully) to cancel my account. They did add insult to injury afterwards, by offering me a year’s use at £30 (so much for rewarding loyal customers) but tempting as it was to have the app back again, I wasn’t going to send them any more of my money, whatever the terms.
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My search for a replacement app has, so far, been unsuccessful. All it was, basically, was a step counter with flashy awards when you managed to reach your totals and some fairly useless fitness programmes that very quickly rose beyond 20 minutes, which exceeded my boredom threshold and couldn’t be readjusted down to a level I was happy with. So if anyone wants to set something up, I’d happily pay for it. I guess the WalkFit false advertising (promised weight loss) wouldn’t be an option for a decent person, but it might just take off anyway, at the right price.
I shall leave you with a picture of Triar in his favourite place. I brought my (financially worthless) squashy leather sofas all the way from Norway because we both like them and this one is in front of a radiator, so double comfort for him lying up on the top. Have a good week all, and thanks for reading.
I went out on New Year’s morning to find a waterfall. I guess the main aim was to find somewhere new to walk and I stopped briefly about a mile short of Routin Brig because there was a sign that said there was a path to it. On closer examination, the notice said the path (which followed the river upstream) could become impassable after a lot of rain (tick) and had narrow segments that had a steep drop into the water. I’m not the best on my feet these days and didn’t really want to start 2026 with a trip to A&E, so I got back in the car and drove.
It was worth the drive, though it would have looked better under a blue sky.
The current bridge, which carries a road, is from the late 18th century, but there apparently has been a river crossing there since the 16th or earlier. The river is called the Cairn Water and it’s rumoured that witches used to meet here and the area is closely associated with the Covenanters (and their persecution). The only people I met there were taking a New Year’s dip though, which involved a degree of yelling, so I assume it was chilly!
Because I am on standby for work (quiet so far, fingers crossed) we couldn’t walk too far, but we wandered a bit in the woodland and Triar celebrated New Year by doing zoomies four times round a tree on his extending lead. I was expecting to have to disentangle him, but he resolved it by changing direction and zooming round the other way three times on his own. I had to persuade him round the fourth time, but he did pretty well for a dog at speed.
I stopped a couple of times on the way back, once to look at another sign, which indicated a path “Coffin Road to Shawhead”. I shall go back and explore that one another day. Coffin roads were, as the name indicates, footpaths that led from villages or towns to a church. These were the pathways by which the dead were carried to their burial place. The associated church in this case is the eye catching kirk at Kirkpatrick Irongray. Isn’t that a wonderful name?
Again, there is history here associated with the Covenanters. History is complicated m but in essence, these were Scots who resisted the establishment of the king as the head of the church as only Jesus could be that. As with being a witch, the punishment for preaching at “conventicles” – places outside the church in the open air or in barns and houses – was death. History is bloody, is it not, but those who stand by their principles against changes they see as wrong, despite appalling consequences, are a fascinating study.
Though I had hoped to spend New Year in Settle, it has been a good few days, filled with rest and good food, much of it provided by Donna. At short notice, I joined her family for the traditional Scottish New Year meal of steak pie, then for a “festive food from the freezer” meal last night and am going again for a birthday celebration with friends tomorrow. I know I am truly blessed to have such a generous neighbour.
Next week will be interesting. The decorator is due to start painting and varnishing on Monday. After that, I will need carpets and a few of the electricals need tidying up, but 2026 should hopefully be the year when I can start having overnight visitors again. I hope the end stages go smoothly.
In the meantime, I will leave you with another end of the year picture from Blackbird Lane. The sky was beautiful on Wednesday and I took some more photos after I had turned and begun to walk back. Thank you for reading and Happy New Year to you all.
A Vet’s Life 