Category Archives: Scotland

More Song, Less Horror…

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To continue what I started yesterday, Tuesday and Wednesday were broadly taken up with meetings about Monday and follow-up actions. When faced with something complex that requires careful handling of many different aspects of care, there are always things missed that need to be rectified, and follow up questions and investigation.

Not entirely coincidentally, I had an appointment early on Tuesday morning with the doctor from Occupational Health (OH). We had a good chat and discussed some things that I found helpful. For example, she suggested using flexitime to take days off when I am tired in the immediate aftermath of something that takes a lot of energy.

There were other suggestions my mind rebelled against. For example, she suggested I could try anti-depressants, partly on the grounds that they wouldn’t interfere with any neurological examination because “half the population are on them”. That doesn’t strike me as a good thing. I know some people find them very useful, but I’m not depressed.

I said as much and she suggested some of my symptoms mimic anxiety symptoms. She also said the tingling in my hands and feet (which I was experiencing during the meeting) were not due to anxiety as I was speaking (and therefore breathing) normally. That’s quite a useful observation actually, because it’s been suggested before that some of my symptoms might be anxiety, but I have never been breathless in that way, even when my symptoms were at their worst.

Anyway, having driven through Tuesday and Wednesday on adrenaline, I woke up on Thursday and my mind and body rebelled. I had noticed, on my flexitime sheet that the extra hours I’d worked on Monday and Tuesday had taken me over eight hours, so I called my line manager, explained what the OH doctor had suggested and, to my relief, he agreed. My shoulders immediately dropped several inches, so I knew, at once, it was the right thing to have done.

I didn’t do much that day. I wrote a bit of my new story and immediately came upon a conundrum. Setting it in Dyrøya is all very well, but if the man who fell in love with Mary McKear is old now, he must have met her some time ago. So I need to know about Dyrøya’s past. It’s now an island, connected to the mainland by a bridge. So knowing when Mary arrived… and how… is important. More than that, what is a young Irish woman doing on a remote island in Arctic Norway anyway? It’s going to be the first thing he asks, surely?

Leaving all that aside, it was time to take Triar out. I set off to go down Blackbird Lane, and halfway there, decided to look if there was somewhere else I could take him in the car, that wasn’t too far away. Google led me to Castledykes Park, which was only a few minutes drive. We wandered slowly round the park. I know vets are meant to despise extending leads, but this was the perfect time to use one, because then Triar can zoom about, while I meander.

It was warm and sunny in the park. We looked at the trees and flowers and Triar did what dogs do on trees and flowers, and quite shortly, I found a nice bench. It was warm enough to sit down and close my eyes and hope that Triar wasn’t eating a dropped bar of chocolate or rolling in fox poo as I listened to the birds singing.

There was, yet another meeting on Friday morning, but much of the day was spent on a refresher course about handling animal welfare cases. It all sounds very peaceful when you’re talking about the legal framework and the form filling.

And so, yesterday I went to another mini-writing retreat and I used the time to delve into Mary’s background. She now has a history – a Norwegian grandmother, who escaped from Norway in World War 2. Maybe she came over in one of the boats that are coming to Shetland when I’m there in May!

Anyway, that’s me up to date now, after my busy week. If you’ve read this far, thank you. Take care!

Songs and Horrors

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Last Sunday, having not written anything on my novel for a good few weeks despite good intentions, a new idea thrust its way into my head. There’s a well-known song by folk rock band Vamp, called Tir n’a Noir. It has a beautiful melody, and when I came to understand the words (they’re in Norwegian and also dialect) they are, if anything, even more beautiful.

On a stormy November day, an old man is reaching for memories of a beautiful summer from his youth, when he met and fell in love with Mary McKear. His remembrance is dim, there are hints he has been melancholy and seeking solace for a long time, sometimes at the bottom of a glass. I like to think, a glass of Irish Whisky, as that’s where Mary is from.

Tir n’a Noir is named in the song as the place he met Mary, but it is, I believe, a reference to Tír na nÓg, which is a mystical land in Irish mythology, a paradise of everlasting youth and beauty.

Towards the end is a hauntingly written verse, which I will try to translate for my English readers, though I won’t be able to do it justice and I’m not going to cast aside meaning for rhyme or rhythm.

Så når kvelden komme og eg stilt går ombord,
Og min livbåt blir låra i seks fot med jord,
Seil’ eg vest i havet te Mary McKear i
Det grønna Tir n’a Noir.


Then when evening comes and I silently board,
And my lifeboat is laid six feet under the earth,
I sail west on the sea to Mary McKear in
The green Tir n’a Noir.

I’ve just seen on Norwegian Wikipedia, about this song, it describes her as his wife, but (unless I missed something in my translation) it’s unclear whether Mary was his wife, or how long she was with him. We only catch a glimpse, where his grey life now is contrasted with the wonderful green summer when he felt fully alive as they laughed together. It’s suggested it was long ago, as he remembers her, as if through a mist, over horizons that slide and crumble, or wither.

Anyway, the urge came to me that I wanted to write their story, showing those contrasts, between the dim present and the wonderfully remembered green land, when he was young and filled with love and hope. I want to explore and reveal his story, or at least my own interpretation at how he might have arrived at the point where he sees his coffin as a lifeboat.

In researching and translating the song, I found reference to the fact that the words were actually a poem, by a Norwegian poet: Kolbein Falkeid. The lyrics are written in his local Haugesund dialect. So I hope my Norwegian friends can forgive me the imperfection, because I want to set my story in the North of Norway, where the winters are long and dark and the summers are so intensely green that I can imagine them as the green paradise where he met her.

I don’t know where the story will take me, though ideas are already arriving of how he ended up taking to the bottle. It’s melancholy in it’s beauty but the song steers very clear of being a dirge, and I want my story to have a similarly haunting beauty. Of course, I look at what I want to achieve and know it’s beyond my current writing skills, but I can only start and hope that I can come close to the vision that has arisen in my head.

I’ve a lot to say this morning. It’s been a long week and I may run out of time as I’m going on a mini-writing retreat, which meets at 10:30, so I will write what I can, and if I run out of time, I can finish later or tomorrow.

These flowers were given to me by a colleague (Lauren) along with some scones on Tuesday. Another colleague (Lisa) ran me home on Monday evening and brought me back the morning after. By some miracle, Donna must have felt my pain as she invited me for dinner at 17:35 on Monday evening.

As regular readers noticed, there was a two week gap in this blog. I couldn’t face writing and it was due to uneasiness in my mind. I was dealing with a welfare case. Sometimes, with experience, there are factors which ring alarm bells in your head, and this one has been sounding in mine, loud and clear. I feel a bit like Miss Marple, remembering people and drawing parallels. My parallel this time, was to an awful case in Norway that I wasn’t involved in. Rather, it fell to a close colleague. I only read about it: a report I couldn’t read in one go as the horrors were too much. It made the national news and the farmer went to prison for two years.

The day before I missed my first blog post, I had seen the farmer take an action which meant that, in theory, the animals should be easier to look after, but also had the effect that they were now entirely reliant on that person. They had been outside, where to an extent they could forage for themselves, though there wasn’t a huge amount of grass. Now they were shut in. The animals in Norway had been shut in too. So uneasy was I that they would not be properly looked after, that I went back out the day after, a Saturday morning when I shouldn’t have been working, but I hadn’t slept and knew I wouldn’t unless I put my mind at rest.

That trip out, did put my mind at rest, to an extent. I saw the animals had been fed and they had water. It’s difficult with cases where the extent of the problems can’t be easily predicted. You have to put a plan in place, then trust that the farmer will follow it, but follow up yourself within a timeframe that’s not too long, in case he or she fails to follow through. I guess, if I did one thing wrong, it was that three weeks was too long, but visiting too often can be seen as micromanagement or even harassment.

It is some consolation to me, that a private vet had been out in between and said he hadn’t seen any real cause for alarm. And though it was bad, I am aware that it could have been a lot worse. Because of the actions we took on that day, most of the animals have now been moved to somewhere where they are safe. We have done what we can to ensure those that remain are not at risk… they are now back outside, but still with access to shelter.

And I discovered how thoughtful my colleagues and friends are. I’ve said before that I find great support when surrounded by a circle of strong women, and somehow, my circle is getting stronger as time goes by.

I’m going to go now as there are a couple of things I have to do before going out, not least to take Triar down Blackbird Lane, but I will return, probably tomorrow, to write about the rest of the week.

Take care.

Case Work and Crocuses

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I went back, both to work and to the doctors’ on Monday. The GP I saw was helpful. He was young and I think may have been in his foundation years as a GP, but he took the time to do a fairly thorough neurological examination. I was laughing to myself afterwards as I’ve had so many of them that I could have told him a couple of bits he’d missed, but he found a few things, at least one of them new.

He told me he will contact the neurological department at the hospital, both to ask them to reassess my triage as urgent and also, to ask if there’s anything that can be done for me while I’m waiting. It will be interesting to see if I am now seen earlier than July. I don’t know when he’ll get an answer to the other question.

So I’m not as fatigued as I was. I am managing to do some things again that had more or less come to a halt, like cooking and tidying the kitchen afterwards. I even took myself upstairs yesterday and did a bit of painting in the bedroom, but the energy I had quickly drained, as it did when I tried to do a veterinary risk assessment yesterday morning.

The veterinary risk assessment (VRA) I have to do is an assessment of the possible consequences of moving cattle from a farm where there is no TB present, to one where it has been confirmed.

This particular VRA is a bit of a wildcard because TB hasn’t been confirmed yet. We are waiting for the results at the moment (they are trying to grow bacteria in a Petrie dish from lesions found in the lungs of a cow that was slaughtered) and they won’t be back until mid-March. The cattle that need to be moved onto the farm are young stock (heifers) which are being wintered on a different farm. They are due to calve in mid-April. If the culture is negative, restrictions will be lifted and heifers can move to the dairy unit with no problems. If it’s positive, the restrictions will remain and we will need to move quickly.

In order to complete the assessment, I will look into all kinds of factors, including how high the risk of spread is. For example, are there cattle on neighbouring farms and how likely is it those cattle have had nose to nose contact with cattle from the infected farm? What are the potential costs to the government? For example, moving a lot of cattle onto the farm might mean the government has to pay compensation later, if those animal become infected.

And there is an absolute requirement to carry out a short interval skin test (SIT) before any cattle can be moved onto the farm. TB is a slow moving disease sometimes. A cow can be infected for years before it is spotted. When we confirm there are TB bacteria on the farm, we have to check, via the SIT whether we have one infected animal, or many. Until we’ve done that, it’s impossible to weigh the risk.

So if we get a positive culture, I will need to be ready with the SIT and the VRA so we can move quickly. There’s nowhere to calve those heifers and nowhere to milk them, where they are, so they need to go somewhere, on welfare grounds. I find this part of my work very interesting, but with so much cross-referencing of data, I need to be on the ball. Hopefully I can get more of it done in the early part of next week. Big welfare case is also due a revisit though, so we will see!

I don’t have so many photos at the moment. I’ve not been out walking or exploring much, though I took a couple of pictures of colourful lichen in Blackbird Lane, which I will share with you.

Taking time to look closely at the nature around me keeps me sane! A few minutes ago, Triar was whining, so I took him outside and stood in the semi darkness, listening to the most wonderful dawn chorus. There were robins and blackbirds and a song thrush, all greeting the new day. Triar stood and listened too, as he sniffed the morning air. I wonder what he could smell.

I saw on Facebook that Norwegian ships from WW2 are coming to Shetland the week I am there. I was oddly emotional when I saw that, hoping I can speak to the sailors who bring them over. I found a rock beside the Nith (which runs through the middle of Dumfries) commemorating the connections between Dumfries and Norway in the war. Funny how things come together sometimes.

Anyway, I will leave you with photos of the stone and the Nith itself. There were flood warnings in place last night, but midweek, when Triar and I took a walk there, it looked benign enough. Triar photobombed the rock shot, but I’ll not crop it! Have a good week all!

Neurological Fatigue and Ice Cream

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Hello again! I’m going to start this week’s post with an apology and with thanks. It’s been three weeks since my last post and I know that was unusual enough that Mary, who reads it regularly (and once sent me the wonderful Norge i Fest book) was worried enough to check on me. There have also been others looking out for me, both at and outside of work, and to them, thank you.

Per and Tor: Norge I Fest

I’m not sure if it was Valerie who introduced me to the concept of neurological fatigue, but she works with patients within a physiotherapy and occupational therapy department in the NHS and she has spent some time working through a course to help me deal with it better. Those who read regularly will know I’ve been affected by some odd, undiagnosed neuro problems for eight or nine years.

Most of the time, it’s not visible to those around me, but it never completely goes away and sometimes, it returns with a vengeance and becomes highly visible as I twitch and stamp my way around. Because it means I struggle sometimes at work, occupational health want me to try and get a diagnosis, so I am now seven months into the year-long NHS waiting list.

I can see that, in my last blog, I mentioned the welfare case that has, most likely, been the biggest trigger in this episode. With the best will in the world, dealing with sad and difficult cases is always mentally exhausting. I finally got out there two weeks ago on Friday and on Saturday, the whole thing was preying on my mind so much that writing anything here was beyond me.

It’s weird, because my body went on functioning. I went out for afternoon tea for a friend’s birthday on Saturday afternoon, then down to Mum and Dad’s as Mum’s 82nd birthday was coming up. I did comment to Mum that, when I took Triar for his daily walks, I did worry that I would collapse at some point. Not sure what she made of that, not sure how much is wishful thinking (it would push me up that waiting list, at the very least), but I have, twice in the last year, had one of my legs simply give way when I tried to take a step, so I ended up sprawling on the pavement.

I should probably have taken time off work the week after that visit. Had I done so, I probably would be fine by now, but with the prospect of formal attendance meetings, and in the knowledge that I probably could function at work, at least, I pushed on through. I’d actually taken Monday off as a flexi day and normally would have enjoyed the shorter week, but I actually didn’t notice it was shorter. By then, I was on autopilot.

I feel I’m not describing this well. I think, up until a couple of days ago, I was managing to function at work, to the point where most people wouldn’t know anything was up. The noticeable changes were at home. I’ve been working on building good habits: eating more healthily, writing a bit each day, walking for half an hour. One by one, those stopped.

Other things stopped too. Wiping the kitchen surfaces and clearing away is something I normally do as I go along, but my kitchen was starting to resemble a student flat. I didn’t like seeing it, but couldn’t find the energy to do anything about it. It’s really difficult to describe, but work was simply taking everything I had and in between, I was barely existing.

At what point, in that scenario, do you take time off? Logically, and indeed in Norway, the right time to stop and rest was as soon as I became dysfunctional at home, but in the UK, the pressure to work until you literally can’t is quite high. That day came on Wednesday this week as I woke up and could barely drag myself out of bed.

Even on Thursday morning, having spent Wednesday mostly lying down, I was swithering as to whether I should try to work from home. Again with the comparison with Norway – there, if you are on sick leave and feel like doing a bit of work, it’s allowed. So on Thursday, I wrote up some details of what I was working on on Tuesday afternoon, in case someone else had to take over that case, and I replied to a couple of easy e-mails, because that was no hassle and would mean that coming back to work would be easier.

In the early hours of Friday morning, I was plagued with a blinking session. I have looked this up and found out what I was experiencing was called blepharospasm. I’ve had it a few times before, but it’s never been a significant symptom, but it’s disorienting and tiring and it kept me awake, so there was no chance of me working yesterday. That said, by yesterday afternoon, I found the energy to tidy the kitchen, which is honestly a load off my mind, every time I walk in there.

Slightly worrying is that blepharospasm has to be reported to the DVLA, so I guess I’m going to have to go to the doctor next week and ask about that. Just another complication to add to the list. It’s not an immediate suspension from driving, but the doctor will have to decide that one, I think.

My line manager, has been very supportive, thank goodness, though I imagine we are going to have to go through another formal attendance meeting. I’ve already asked him for another occupational health referral as I need to know how I can handle this situation. I want to work, but when I need to rest, I would like to do so without worrying I’m going to lose my job. Preemptive rest twice a year is better than crashing. I know some people abuse the system, but the system needs to work for me as well as them.

So where does the ice cream come in? I went to Valerie’s last weekend and rested there. Getting there was difficult. Even though I knew where I was heading, my mind was plagued with intrusive thoughts (another distressing symptom which I’m not going to describe – my Norwegian doctor told me a long time ago to ignore them as they are not dangerous) as I drove up the road.

It was worth it though, as Valerie and Charles offer me a wonderful haven where I feel surrounded by peace, not least when sitting in the hot tub with a mug of hot chocolate and Bailey’s! Saturday afternoon, the ice cream van drove round, playing his tinkling music, and Valerie suggested an ice cream. We were sitting in the garden at the time. Charles had lit the chiminea and we were listening to the birds and when Valerie heard the ice-cream van, she suggested buying one and I agreed. This is what she came back with! A lovely, whippy ice cream with a 99flake. I haven’t had one for years and it was delicious.

So, I hope that was all coherent and not too weird, but that’s where I am. Hopefully by Monday I will be back at work, though I will need to address some things, such as a doctor’s appointment. I can recommend afternoon tea at the Hetland Hall Hotel, though the bitter soup in a coffee cup was a step too far, that would probably have been better forgotten!

Have a good week all and thanks for reading.

Tough

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I have arrived on the other side of Storm Éowyn safe, but feeling a bit battered. It’s been altogether a mixed week. I’m dealing with a complicated welfare case just now, where I’m on something of a tightrope. There are mental health issues involved and financial problems and, for me, at the centre of it all, are some at-risk animals. The next few days will be tense and, frustrating.

There are several agencies working together and yesterday should have been a significant opportunity to drive some changes, but because we were in a red warning area, all outdoor work was cancelled. The window we had, where it looked like all of us might come together to effect some change, vanished and now we have to pull something else out of the hat.

For me, animal welfare is 100% front and centre, but one of the other agencies has different priorities and won’t move their activities forward to help. I don’t really understand the lack of flexibility, but it means that the local authority and I will have to work around them, even though it makes the situation more difficult. At the end of the day, I need to be able to tell myself I did everything I could, within my professional capacity, but it seems likely there might be some distressing days ahead.

Storm Éowyn herself was a battering experience. I have three mobile phones and when the first of five warning alarms came, I had no idea what it was. It’s a very unpleasant tone they use. Triar looked worried every time it happened. I had planned to go to Valerie’s this weekend. I genuinely thought I would still be able to get away on Friday afternoon, but there were so many roads blocked by then that I decided I shouldn’t try.

Power went off in my house at 10:42 yesterday morning. Technically, I was working from home, but I ended up mostly preserving my phone battery for two important Teams meetings. By some miracle, Donna still had power, so she fed me delicious comfort food, including macaroni cheese and sourdough garlic bread and I walked home using the phone on my torch. It’s very dark indeed when all the streetlights are out.

And now, in the aftermath, I have to work out what to do about the half a slate that has smashed the plant pot at my back door. When I went to see if the neighbours’ power was off yesterday, neighbour Gary was on the roof. He said mine was okay, but I don’t know how closely he looked. I can’t really see how the half slate could have slipped from anywhere other than my roof, but the back garden slopes away, so seeing the whole thing clearly, isn’t that easy. I’m probably going to have to get someone out to check. Going on the roof feels beyond my middle-aged capabilities. At least it isn’t raining.

I don’t have any photos of Éowyn. I took a video of the trees in my garden, dancing wildly, but don’t have the capacity to post videos here. The pictures I do have are from driving over to Stranraer on Tuesday, when I was meant to witness Lesley taking blood from cattle.

Unfortunately, though I arrived at the planned time, they had just finished when I got there, so it was a bit of a wasted day. As well as the photos of low-lying mist, I also had a lovely lunch of avocado on toast, with poached eggs and buttered thyme mushrooms. The cafe options in Stranraer are very different from when I went there for an interview in 1993, when there was only Petrucci’s, with its brown Formica tables and lasagne and chips.

Anyway, I shall leave you now. It’s light outside and I’d better go out and peer up at the roof to assess what I can see from ground level and work out what do do from there. I hope that, if you were in the path of the storm, there’s nothing that can’t be fixed. My own power returned sometime in the early hours of the morning, which was an enormous relief, not least because my adjustable bed wasn’t adjustable with no power, and sitting up to sleep doesn’t really work!

Take care all, and thanks for reading.

Muted Sunshine

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Last Saturday I had an emergency trip to the opticians’. On Friday, or perhaps Thursday, I’d noticed flashes of light in the corner of my left eye. I thought it was a reflection from the headlights of a passing car catching the edge of my glasses, but when it happened again in the darkness of my back garden on Friday evening, then again when writing this blog on Saturday morning, I knew it wasn’t.

Having looked up what flashes of this type could mean, I called the opticians’ as soon as they opened. The receptionist asked lots of questions and said they were fully booked, but that she would speak to an optician and call me back. She did so within a few minutes, telling me they were going to fit me in and to come right away.

I was seen very quickly and fortunately, she didn’t find anything untoward. As a part of the aging process, the vitreous humour (the jelly like substance filling your eye) becomes more liquid and can pull away from the retina (made up of cells which capture the light and send information to your brain allowing you to see). As it pulls away, there’s a risk of tearing. Either the retina can be torn away from the back of the eye altogether (meaning you lose sight over whichever area becomes detached) or blood vessels can tear, with potentially the same effect if the cells of the retina die. Fortunately, my flashes were most likely caused by the edge of the retina lifting a little as the vitreous humour separated. Most likely it would stop in a few days, she said, and it seems to have done just that.

There was another unexpected surprise when I went to pay. I was expecting a fee of maybe £100 as she’d spent a lot of time looking at my eyes and used a lot of sophisticated equipment, but apparently the whole examination was covered by the NHS. Many of its services may be broken, but this one worked exactly as it ought to. A reminder then, that sometimes peripheral functions can be provided by the private sector, even if central services really are better served in public hands.

It’s been a good week at work. I inspected chicken farms on Monday and Tuesday and felt I was beginning to provide a useful service as my knowledge is growing over time. Once I have been doing it for a little longer, it would be a useful experience to recap by joining another more experienced vet on a visit, if I am allowed to. When you first visit with someone else, you pick up some knowledge and can grow your own as you work, but sometimes going back and watching someone else once the basic knowledge is in place can mean picking up on the subtler aspects that you maybe missed in the steep learning curve at the beginning. I’ll have to discuss it with my line manager though. One of the problems with being chronically understaffed is that there is little spare time for anything beyond the basic.

On Thursday, I had lunch with Fran, the minister of the church I’ve been attending in Lochmaben. It’s been my intention for a while to ask her whether there is anything I can usefully do in my (admittedly limited) spare time to help in the parish, but instead, we got talking about Shetland, where she worked for a few years, and then writing. It seems that she also writes and was very enthusiastic when I suggested she could come along to the writing club I belong to. I will ask about helping out later, but in the meantime, I seem to have made another friend.


The best things come to those who wait, or so it is said. Over the past years and months, I have had so many things to sort out (moving internationally is incredibly intense) that all kinds of other things have ended up on the back burner. A colleague and I had talked about getting a coffee machine at work, but somehow, I’d never got round to it. I had a lovely meal round at Donna’s last Friday and it came up that she had one, barely used, that she was going to take to a charity shop. I guess I should probably make a donation to charity now to cover what they’ve lost, but she gave it to me instead. It is now installed at work and I will buy pods and try it out next week. I hope my colleague is pleased!

I’ve also been putting off making any decisions about the garden, which needs to be tidied, but is taking a firm second place to the building work in the house. I had a gardener for a while, but he sacked me as I was never home. I had vaguely looked for another, but they aren’t easy to find. David, one of the local authority inspectors I work with, unexpectedly offered me gardening tools that were left in a rental house he part-owns and oversees. So now, without lifting a finger, I have a lawn-mower, a strimmer, a hedge cutter and various hoes and spades. Part of what put me off doing my own gardening was the expense and time it would take to go out and buy everything I need, and now I don’t have to. Though the last few years have been incredibly tough, and there are still struggles I’m going through, there are shafts of sunshine in my life that are beginning to break through the clouds.

Most of the pictures this week were taken on the way back from lunch on Thursday. The cafe was in Lochmaben and the road back to Dumfries tops a hill, then drops steeply away, giving marvellous views over the plain where Dumfries lies. As I drove over, I got glimpses of the sun, which was shining through cloud, creating a wonderfully dramatic sky. The village of Torthorwald is halfway down the hill and I often drive past it and look at the ruined castle, clinging to the hillside. This time, I couldn’t resist. Stopping the car, I got out, climbed over the gate and made my way over the muddy stream to see the ancient stones in their wonderful setting. I hope you enjoy them as much as I enjoyed my wander.

And last, but not least, after the long, Arctic winters, where everything is silent and frozen for months on end, I was amazed to see that, even after the deep chill of last week, there were snowdrops growing in the shelter of the hawthorn hedges in Blackbird Lane. The birds are starting to sing again as well, on still mornings. On Wednesday, blackbirds vied with robins and greenfinch, as well as pink-footed geese and collared doves in a wonderful morning concerto. It was a reminder that spring is not too far away.

Thanks for reading. I hope you have a lovely week.

Snow and Frost

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It feels like ages since I was down in Yorkshire, listening to the Met Office warnings about snow, but when I look back at this week’s pictures, I can see the snowfall was only last Sunday, which coincidentally was my birthday. I know the situation was unpredictable and that snow in the UK causes more disruption because the country is not set up for it, but the relentless warnings felt like they were over the top, not least because it was predicted the whole thing was only likely to last a day. It seems to me that an appropriate response, when the snow is going to melt within 24-48 hours, would be to remind everyone to avoid unnecessary travel on those days, then sit back and enjoy the scenery.

I woke at three in the morning and saw a thin layer of snow and assumed that might be it and went back to sleep. I’d left the curtains and blinds open so I could see and I confess I was amazed to wake again at six to see the entire window was obscured with snow, lying on the windowsill and sticking to the glass. Realistically this meant the snow was warm and sticky. When it’s snowing at minus 8, the flakes are usually tiny and don’t stick to anything, but drift at the slightest air movement. However, it did mean that it had snowed properly and wasn’t just a dusting!

I wondered last winter, our first back in the UK, whether Triar missed the snow, so knowing there was a good covering, I got out of bed to take him outside. It was a wonderful start to my birthday, watching him doing zoomies on the lawn and burying his face up to his ears.

Later, I went for a walk, but it was cold and windy and the sky was grey. I took a few photos, but didn’t linger long as I hadn’t dressed for the windchill, which wasn’t apparent among the houses, but only on venturing out into the fields.

I headed north on Monday and the roads were fine, though I travelled with blankets, warm soup and plenty of food. The rest of the week has been dominated, both at home and at work, by low temperatures.

At work, low temperatures are often significant as freezing conditions can affect the welfare of animals on the farm. For example, if the water in all the troughs freezes solid, it can be difficult to ensure all the animals have enough to drink. A cow drinks a lot of water. Part of my week has been spent making decisions about whether sales at markets can go ahead when their water has frozen and they can’t cleanse and disinfect. I haven’t personally been out blood sampling, but for colleagues who have, cold fingers are not the only challenge. If your sample freezes before you get it into the insulated, warmed box, it will be defunct. Repeat testing is expensive, so careful judgement is needed on whether to go ahead.

At home, it hasn’t been the best. Though the upstairs rooms in my house are now insulated, they still don’t have doors or radiators. The radiator in my hall has been going full pelt all week, but the passage is still too chilly for comfort. Quite unexpectedly though, the electrician/handyman who is running the project on my house, arrived to do some work downstairs on Tuesday. Back when the initial plan was hatched, it was suggested the ceiling in the downstairs bathroom would be lowered, partly to allow for various waste pipes and fan ducts to be hidden. I wasn’t sure if this was still going ahead, but I came back on Tuesday evening to find that not only was the bathroom ceiling being lowered, with added insulation, but he was doing the hallway in the back part of the house as well. That part is an extension with thinner walls and a flat roof and it was only with the onset of winter that I realised how cold that part of the house would be. All very well insulating the upstairs in the main, older part of the house, when the kitchen and bathroom and all the water pipes were out there and unprotected.

The kitchen is now the only bit that isn’t insulated overhead and that part of the house is already noticeably less chilly than the front hallway. There’s still more to do, but in time, I may not have to watch the smart meter ratcheting up a huge figure daily as I’ve chosen to keep the heating running day and night to prevent frozen pipes!

I shall leave you with some frosty pictures, mostly from Blackbird Lane. There is hoar frost collecting in the places where the low, winter sun doesn’t reach and it’s very beautiful. I’ve tried my best to capture it as well as the golden light against that wide, blue sky.

Thanks for reading. Have a good week!

Looking Up

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It feels a long time ago now, but last weekend with Valerie and Charles was wonderful. Having slept well after hot chocolate laced with brandy in the hot tub with Valerie, we all headed out on a drive through Kippen to Fintry. It’s a beautiful area of Scotland and one with some special memories for me. Thirty five years ago, as a vet student, I saw practice in Kippen. It was there that I was first sent in to do a consultation on my own on a lovely grey rabbit. There was also a parrot in the waiting room that used to meow at the dogs, then tell them to shut up, if they started to bark.

We stopped off at the Courtyard Cafe on Knockraich Farm for lunch. It was beautifully decorated for Christmas and the lights at the top of the page were above us as we dined. I had a ploughman’s lunch, followed by a mince pie with Bailey’s flavoured ice cream. It was delicious.

Having stopped off at Lidl, Valerie and I had another hot tub session m this time with gluhwein. The thought has just crossed my mind that I told mum yesterday that I barely drink alcohol, and now I’m making it sound as if we had a truly boozy weekend, but it was a lovely moment and the gluhwein was very reminiscent of Norwegian gløg. All it needed was some chopped nuts and raisins.

We went to the Christadelphian church service in Stirling on Sunday morning, where I was made to feel very welcome, as I have been on the other occasions I’ve attended. We stayed for a shared lunch and afterwards I rolled up my sleeves and did some of the washing up. I can feel a real sense of community there, which has been lost in many places, following Covid.

We headed off for a last coffee at the River House in Stirling. Valerie had promised me Christmas decorations and it didn’t disappoint. I love the contrast between the classic beauty of the Courtyard Cafe and the exuberant British, Nordic style decorations here below.

Back to work on Monday and a feeling of nervousness as I went out to blood sample some sheep that had moved from parts of England that are now under restrictions for Bluetongue. It’s too cold now for the mosquitoes that carry it to become infective, but the two sheep both came up a few months back, when the weather was warmer and before the restrictions were in place. Tracing a disease that isn’t spread by direct contact, and which may not show up for some months is a complicated business.

So far, it hasn’t been found up here, but we are staying vigilant. It had been a long time since I had taken blood samples from sheep, but the two visits went okay and I sent all the paperwork in by the next day. I haven’t heard back yet from the debriefing team, even though I spotted an error in one of the forms, so it will doubtless come winging back to me at some point. There are now confirmed cases of avian influenza down in Norfolk, so there could be busy times coming up.

Tuesday was an easier day; I visited a couple of vet practices. Most mixed vet practices in Scotland do some work for the government, checking for notifiable diseases like anthrax, brucellosis and TB. As part of my job, I go out and visit them, partly to check they have suitable equipment, but also for outreach. They are routinely out on many more farms than I am, and if they see anything that we could help with, I hope that they would feel that reaching out was possible. Vets used to work for the ministry for years, but now there’s a constant churning of staff and that continuity has been lost. Changing that will require the political will to improve and invest, so I’m not holding my breath, but in the meantime, I try to present a friendly face.

I also stopped off at ReadingLasses in Wigtown for a lunch of coffee and cake, with a good book to read. The cake was delicious, and this time I bought the book too.

And now, it’s the last weekend before Christmas and I’m going to spend some of it painting. The work on my house is progressing and, having painted the new shower room, the joiner came yesterday to fit the waterproof boards behind the shower. I made a start on one of the bedrooms last night. It still astonishes me how much of the paint sinks into the new plaster. It’s much harder work than normal painting, but also important to do a good job. Hopefully, in the not-too-distant future, I’ll be ready for visitors.

Anyway, I wish you all a peaceful and happy Christmas. Thanks for reading.

Food and Festivity

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This week I’ve been out for two Christmas dinners! Last weekend, despite Storm Darragh doing its best to keep me home, I made a run for Yorkshire on the Friday. Mum had booked us a meal at the lovely Middle Studfold Farm on Sunday and I didn’t want to miss it. Middle Studfold is a farm where they do bed and breakfast as well as meals at weekends. Set in Ribblesdale in the heart of the Yorkshire Dales, it’s a gorgeous, stone farmhouse. The attached tearoom was tastefully decorated and wonderfully cosy.

We were soon pulling Christmas crackers and enjoying the Christmas music. I had chosen field mushroom with goats cheese as my starter and it didn’t disappoint.

Then came the traditional turkey with trimmings. The parsnip was particularly delicious, mashed and flavoured with horseradish and the stuffing has inspired me to experiment with adding chestnuts to my usual recipe.

I had to head up the road soon afterwards, but it would have been wonderful to have lingered over dinner and perhaps stayed overnight. I would highly recommend it for a lovely warm Yorkshire Dales welcome.

It was a good week at work and I revisited one of my welfare cases and found no further problems, so I was able to close the case for now, which was a good feeling in the run up to Christmas. Because of the way the algorithms are set up, there will be another inspection, likely within the next year, which is also good as we will be able to monitor whether the changes are continuing. I hope they are as it felt like a positive visit with real progress being made.

There was a second festive feast for me this week with A Novel Approach, the writing group I am involved with in Lockerbie. We’ve had a couple of mini writing retreats recently, which I have enjoyed enormously and now it was time to celebrate. I decided against the turkey this time, though everyone else’s did look very good. I had a beef collop on clapshot with a haggis fritter. If that all needs translating, a collop seems to be a slice of meat and the word is thought to be derived from escalope. It was circular and I had wondered whether it was from the cheek, but that doesn’t seem to be the case. Clapshot is mixed potato and swede. The haggis fritter probably speaks for itself and it was all served with a whisky infused gravy, so there was a lovely Scottish flavour to the whole thing.

Regular readers might remember that I am using the Second Nature app, kindly provided by the NHS and despite all this food, I am still following it. The principle of having half your plate filled with vegetables, quarter with protein and quarter with complex carbs is actually quite easy to fit in with meals out. Even though I don’t follow it perfectly, it’s far easier than having to weigh everything at every meal and I have lost one and a half stone so far, but that is why there are rarely cake pictures on here these days. That’s not to say it never happens, but it’s now a rare treat and most of the time I vote for the healthier option.

Somerton House Hotel where we had our Christmas meal was also decorated. I love the whole build up to Christmas. It lends such cosiness to the darkest days of the winter.

And now I am at Valerie’s for the weekend. I fear there may be cake in the near future as she has proposed a visit to Fintry and a garden centre today. Last night I was greeted by various gardens and houses crammed with lights and illuminations and I was reminded of walking round the village at this time of year, when the children were young, searching out the “crazy houses” with their wonderful light shows. Yesterday evening’s soak in the hot tub with hot chocolate was a relaxing start to the weekend. Now I can hear people outside scraping ice from car windows, so maybe tonight, I will have the hot tub on ice experience.
Have a lovely weekend all and thanks for reading!

Tractors and Turkey Dinners

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Last weekend, despite the storm, a group of us gathered at Donna’s for an afternoon of gin tasting. My favourite was a Marks and Spencer Clemantine gin liqueur with bits of gold leaf in it, that had a light bulb in the base of the bottle so that it lit up with a kind of snow globe effect. Happily, we were pouring our own drinks, which is good for me, as these days I am a lightweight when it comes to alcohol and a taste really is enough. Unfortunately, I didn’t realise the bottle lit up when I took my photo.

As the light faded outside, Donna told us that the annual Christmas Tractor and Truck Run would be passing by in the early evening. It’s an annual event, started by farmers, in aid of the neonatal unit at the local hospital. Every year, farmers and truck drivers decorate their vehicles and drive them from Lockerbie to Dumfries. So at around six in the evening, we braved the drizzle and went outside to watch as what seemed like hundreds of agricultural vehicles trundled past. It was an incredibly cheery event and lots of the drivers had brought their children along, so it felt like a lovely family occasion. It was also a wonderful reminder of how strong the farming community is in our area.

I had booked Thursday and Friday off, so it was a short working week. I worked mostly from home as I had some studying to do for an examination in Veterinary Public Health, which I sat (and happily passed) on Tuesday. The main reason I had planned the time off was because I belong to a writers’ group, which had a mini writing retreat booked for Thursday, so on Thursday morning, seven of us gathered in the library in Lockerbie to work on our stories. I don’t often mention writing any more on here as it’s been so slow in recent years, but I am approaching the half-way point of a novel about a vet on the west coast of Scotland. It’s set in the lead up to Christmas, so I’m working on it more-or-less daily right now. I know, from experience, that writing about Christmas in May is oddly discombobulating.

Progress is finally being made on my rooms upstairs. This week the plasterer has been in most days and now, one of the bedrooms is really starting to take shape. It’s been very cheering to have him in the house. He’s obviously happy at his work as he plays music and sings along to it as he’s working, which Triar and ai have enjoyed. His rendition of How Much Is That Doggy In The Window was a real blast from the past! Later today, I shall go and buy some paint. It really does feel that things are moving along.

My car went in for its MOT yesterday and happily, it passed with no more work to be done. I had booked to go out for lunch with Donna, who drove out to The Boathouse at Glencaple, which is couple of miles outside Dumfries on the bank of the Nith. The setting is stunning and, with the winter sun being low in the sky, despite the clouds, there was a real golden glow over the landscape.

I had hoped for a Christmas menu and wasn’t disappointed. Having quickly convinced Donna that a sharing platter of festive goodies was the way to go, the waiter somehow or other managed to persuade us that what we really wanted was a sharing platter each! Despite the fact that it somewhat missed the point of being a sharing platter, we were soon tucking into turkey, stuffing, roast potatoes, pigs in blankets and sprouts, with cranberry sauce. We had to ask for more gravy, but the waiter was fortunately very obbliging. Of course, there was way too much food, so the eventual outcome was that I brought home a good sized box of leftovers, so yesterday evening, I had my first turkey sandwich of the year and today, I still have another full Chrismas dinner to eat.

And as a final note, I should mention that Triar has also been getting ready for Christmas. Every year, he gets a new Kong bear as a present. In the old days, he used to destroy these relatively quickly, but at six years old, he has learned the art of toy preservation. I was starting to be concerned that we might get to Christmas with Bear still relatively intact, but I should have known Triar was merely becoming a master of timing.

So thank you for reading. Have a good week all!