Tag Archives: Dumfries

Back to the Grind

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Andrew and I were out a fair bit last weekend. Waiting lists for dentists in Dumfries are so long that I have joined my mum’s dental practice in Addingham. Fortunately my teeth are fine and now also clean. Andrew came with me on Saturday when I saw the dental hygienist. We had lunch afterwards. In a deli on the edge of town.

On Sunday, we drove back to Scotland. As it was a lovely day, and there was plenty of time, we decided not to head along the main road to the motorway, but instead drove up through the dales, to Hawes then Kirkby Stephen, then up the old A6 almost to Carlisle. I didn’t stop for many photos as it was warm and we had Triar in the car, but we did stop for lunch in an inn called the Fox and Pheasant at Armathwaite. The roast dinner sounded lovely, but more suited to a chilly autumn day, so we both had pizza, while Triar sat hopefully under the table.

I can’t say my first week back at work has been great. I did have a lovely day out, inspecting a very well-run farm with my colleague Lauren, but that was the only high point.

One of the most negative things was receiving an indirect message from the financial service that deals with wages and expenses. When I moved here from Norway, it inevitably cost a lot. One of my considerations when I saw the advert for this job was that they were offering “relocation support” for “some of our locations”. I was originally offered a post in Penrith, which would have been nearer my parents, but I asked about other posts where expenses might be available and I was told Dumfries was one of them.

The offer was made and I accepted, booked in my furniture removal (which in itself, cost more than the £5000 on offer) jumped through the hoop of getting several quotations from different removal companies (quite a faff in itself) and then made the long journey over.

There was an ongoing email discussion about the expenses and I was mildly suspicious when nobody seemed to know exactly how I would go about making the claim. The expenses information I was sent was ten years old, but I kept hoping those in contact with me would be able to find someone who knew how to do it.

That’s often the way in the civil service. There are many different functions and often, it’s about finding the right person, but even when I was in post and began to make the claim, it remained unclear. The form was off putting. It was obviously designed for those who already worked in the civil service and were being compulsorily relocated. Nonetheless, I was assured it was the correct form, so I filled it in as best I could, gathered all the paperwork and sent it to my manager, who sent it onwards to be paid.

That was in January and I have been waiting since. During that time, I have bought a house, thus tying myself down. My manager has been trying to chase it up, but I confess, with my cynical mind, I was wondering whether someone, somewhere, was going to try to weasel their way out of paying me, and the message I received on Monday (directed to my line manager, but sent on for info) made it clear I was right.

It stated that they had been delayed as they were investigating my claim. It went on to say that, as a new entrant, I was ineligible for relocation expenses. It would have had to be explicitly mentioned in the original advertisement, and that they hadn’t been able to find any reference to it. They realised that “Sarah will be disappointed” but there was really nothing they could do.

Reader, I was not disappointed. As any normal human being would predict, I was angry. There is an ongoing problem in the civil service in that everything has been cut to the bone and many of the benefits of working for the service have been slashed away. As I said, when I filled in the form, it was obvious there was no longer provision for relocation for new entrants, however by then, I was already in post and all the expenses incurred.

Back in April, when I was waiting for interview, I realized the advertisement had been taken down. I wanted to make sure I had all the information, so I dug back through a government portal and found it. I took screenshots to make sure I didn’t lose the information while I might still need it. Luckily, I hadn’t deleted it.

Admittedly it uses the word “support” and not “expenses” but I think you will agree, there is no mention made of this not being available to new starters. I was told at the interview that £5000 should be available and that was confirmed in various e-mails afterwards.

Underneath the anger though, what I feel is sad. There are a few people in my part of the civil service who’ve been here a long time and it’s obvious there used to be a lot of benefits and good things that have been taken away. Now there’s a never ending mill of trying to attract new staff, then losing them as demoralization sets in, or they rush for promotion as that is the only way to get a raise, since the wage bands and incremental raises have been removed.

I have been here six months and though I can see there are parts of the job I enjoy, I have half an eye on the job market, looking for other opportunities. Given how much money the civil service has already spent on the process of getting me on board, and given that I have hit the ground running and already am managing a significant workload, it seems very shortsighted to be messing me around like this. Anyway, I have sent my complaint right to the top of my section and we will see where it goes. In the meantime, if anyone knows of any good jobs in Dumfries, I’m all ears!

Have a good week all!

Modernity and Memories

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Though in some ways, the weeks seem to rush past, by the time I write this blog, things that happened Saturday to Tuesday always seem distant. I will be wandering round, on one of those days, thinking “I’ll have to write about this,” then by the end of the week, something else displaces it. Ideally, I should start logging in as things happen, but hey, I’m not that organized! Anyway, this week I have carefully stored away a couple of things I really want to share. The first is about a welfare inspection I did on Tuesday.

I’ve probably said it before, but the sheer size of farms now, compared even to fifteen years ago when I left, is astonishing. When I qualified as a vet, in 1991, larger dairy units might have had 150 cows. Numbers were creeping up though, and by the time I left the UK many of the bigger herds had expanded to having over three hundred cows. Now it seems to be not unusual to have a thousand, sometimes even more.

I have been wondering how welfare is maintained on such a unit. Back when herds were smaller, most farmers knew their animals well. I went out with a dairyman when I was at college and he knew the personalities of the cows he milked and there were some he was very fond of. I remember seeing him cry when he’d been away on holiday and came back to find one of his favourites gone, due to the carelessness of the relief dairy worker that had been covering for him. No wonder some farmers barely take holidays.

I am not under the false impression that bigger is inevitably worse. Those who have expanded are often the most efficient and forward thinking farmers. They are investing in the herd and their own future, but still I had been wondering how. These are living animals and to keep track of when they are in season or in calf, or are sick, takes a lot of time for observation and knowledge.

As we walked along the calf pens, I could see they were being bucket fed. Lots of bigger farms use automatic feeders for their calves, but not here. The farm is run by a couple and (fairly traditionally) it’s the woman who is responsible for feeding the calves. They did have automatic feeders for a while, but found they tended to get dirty. In addition, teaching them to drink from a bucket prepares them for going into bigger groups and being given milk from a trough. You can also check how much milk each calf gets and individualise each one. I guess it takes a long time at peak calving time, but it was interesting to see that a good start in life is so important that industrialization hadn’t occurred (or rather, had been tried and rejected) on this part of the farm.

As we moved from the calves to look at the close-to-calving cows, I was interested to notice that the nearest cow had something attached to her foreleg. I asked what it was, and was told it was a movement monitor. Just as I wear a watch that can tell me how many steps I take each day, the cow’s steps were also being monitored. I wasn’t immediately sure what purpose this would serve, but later, he took me to the computer where these measurements were read.

He showed me a the readings of a cow that was coming in season every month or so. Sure enough, the movements peaked hugely at that time. But it wasn’t only that he could look at the program and see which animals were in season. The system itself recognizes the pattern and, as the cow comes out of the milking parlour, where it goes twice a day, a gate automatically opens to allow it through into a different area, so she can be inseminated. A person walking through the cubicle shed to separate out these cows disturbs all the other animals. Instead, this is another process that is mechanised to minimise both the work required and the disruption to the herd.

Automatic scrapers to clean passageways in cubicle sheds have been around for a long time. Usually they are pulled by chains or ropes and there were some of those here. The chains were in runnels to prevent the cows standing on them and hurting their feet. One of the sheds had one of the newer machines, that functions like a robot vacuum cleaner. These have the advantage that they can go round corners, so there are no missed sections, which there are with the chain scrapers.

What I hadn’t seen before though, was an automatic scraper for moving silage. Usually cows are fed in a passage, where they put their heads between bars and eat the silage and feed that is put there. As they eat, the food gets pushed away, and usually someone will drive along with a tractor now and then and push it back in. Here, there was a machine that ran along a metal track, doing the job automatically for all the big sheds. It runs every two hours, except just after milking time, when it is set to go hourly, as the cows tend to be hungry when they’ve just been milked. Again and again, I saw that, although this system was on a large scale, there were tweaks and tricks that meant that it was really set up, based on what the cows needed.

And finally, back to the matter of the individual animal and the personal relationship. I can’t say I really touched on this with the farmer, although it was apparent as we walked round, that there was still fondness for individual animals. He did tell me though, that where his dad had always been keen to give every sick animal a chance, he tended to be more ruthless is removing animals with bad feet or which had been ill enough to mean they probably wouldn’t thrive. One thing I have observed from life as a vet is that there is a lot of unconscious cruelty by some pet owners, who keep their pets alive long after that life stopped being worth living. Perhaps in a system where animals with bad feet get removed quickly, breeding from those animals that are left will create a better herd, with fewer foot problems in the future. Anyway, I really enjoyed my visit. Cows are still cows and they are still my favourite animals and these visits give me plenty of food for thought.

The other memory was from last weekend. I mentioned I had been told there was a man in his nineties, who’d lived here all his life. I ran into him last weekend. He has a garage at the end of the street where he makes wooden toys for children. He beckoned Triar and me in, and gave Triar a biscuit. Though he was in a wheelchair and his hands were shaky, he was painstakingly painting a toy duck that would go on a stick. There would also be feet attached to a wheel that would spin as it was pushed along the ground.

I asked him if he sold the toys and he said no. He gives them away, and the look on the child’s face is payment enough, he told me. If I ever have any children to stay, I will undoubtedly take them along to see him.

He also started to tell me a bit about the street and I resisted the urge to ask him if I could record what he was saying, as it was lovely. He had lived in the street law his life, he said, and could remember back to the time when it was a village and not part of the town. The doctor came out rarely, he said. If someone was sick, they called for Mrs Black. Mrs Black was also the one you called on if someone was giving birth. We also had a discussion about the healing powers of honey. As antibiotic resistance is growing, even in the vet world there is starting to be more exploration of how old remedies can be better integrated into modern treatment. I bet Mrs Black could have taught us a few things about helping sick people that we have lost in our rush towards modern medicine.

Anyway, I’ll leave you on that note. The pictures are from Blackbird lane, where Triar and I are still walking, morning and evening. This week’s unusual birds were a tree pipet and a mistle thrush, but the blackbirds haven’t deserted. Have a good week and thanks for reading!

Wading Through

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No trip down Watery Lane this week, but after a colourful sunrise on Saturday morning, Dad, Triar and I took a walk along the bank of the river Ribble. It was another frosty afternoon and Triar enjoyed frisking among the trees and then chomping down on a few flavoursome, frozen cow pats!

I worked from home (in Yorkshire) on Monday, then headed up the road to stay with Donna. She has made me feel very welcome all week. She told me on the first evening that she would be starting a Pilates class on Tuesday. As I was still feeling quite couch potatoish after all those long spells lounging around on trains and boats, I asked if I could join her. I’m admittedly more chewed apple core than core of steel, but we’ve booked again for next week and will probably book up a few new years classes so as to get in there before the amateurs, who will only realise on New Year’s Day that it’s time to tone up.

A few weeks back, Donna put up a winter menu for Carlo’s Italian restaurant in Castle Douglas, which sounded both delicious and very reasonable at £15 for two courses. She was meeting a friend, but added me into that as well. This was the mushroom crostini, which was rich with garlic and cream and easily as delicious as it looked.

I won’t add an image of my main course as it also involved mushrooms and looked quite similar, but we were all full enough to decide not to order dessert. I did have a liquor coffee though, which came with a mince pie and a chocolate mint. Being back in Scotland definitely suits me!

The wading through of the title doesn’t refer to water or mud. Rather it is in honour of my first full week at work, which was bogged down in IT issues and induction. I was introduced to many other members of the team in various online meetings and in a short blurb I wrote about myself, which boss K sent round in an e-mail.

Wanting to seem keen and enthusiastic, I carefully avoided using any hint of implication that the work I was doing felt like slogging through a treacle infested swamp, but on Thursday K herself used the phrase when she asked me how I was getting on. Still, I’m quite good at wading so I’ve already got through courses on Equality and Diversity, Health and Safety, Civil Service Expectations, Counter Fraud Bribery and Corruption and Security and Data Protection.

Having done the last of those courses, I was reminded that I should ask K whether it was okay to continue with this blog. After all, the course had told me, as a newly minted member of the civil service I was ripe for criminals to attempt an attack. Presumably if the farmers pay me enough, they will get through their TB tests with flying colours and I will turn a blind eye to their incipient blue tongue or bird flu outbreaks. The rules did seem quite strict though, and I was concerned that K would ban me from mentioning anything about my new role online, but having read last week’s entry, she thought it would be fine to continue so it looks like you’re all stuck with me for a bit longer!

Yesterday, I met R, my veterinary counterpart from Stranraer and LM, my Veterinary Advisor, who will be guiding me through my first cases. I asked whether I might be able to go to Stranraer to shadow R in some cases and LM suggested I might be able to go for a few days, which would be lovely, both in terms of getting to know other parts of the team better, and seeing a bit more of Stranraer. The most criminal behaviour I came across over there was a farmer, who told me on a date that he didn’t think I could calve a cow if he couldn’t manage it. Perhaps he was more skilled than the average farmer* but as I was only ever called out when they couldn’t manage and had experienced few problems, I wasn’t impressed with his first date contemplations. Funnily enough, we didn’t make it to a second date. Still, you know I’m now old, free and single. There’s always the chance of a second crack of the whip. Bring it on, I say!

*He wasn’t.

Leaf Strewn Lanes and Brand New Kit

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After days and days of rain, I woke last Saturday to one of those beautiful wintery days when the fields are pale with frost and the low sun glows golden over the world. Triar and I set out to walk along Watery Lane, which as you can see, lives up to its name.

Watery Lane runs between two, mossy dry stone walls and is lined by trees, which were mostly bare, though the floor of the lane was thickly strewn with fallen leaves.

We turned past the barns onto Lodge Lane and as we descended towards the road, a farmer drove by in his tractor. To my surprise, he grinned and waved cheerily as he passed, which improved my day even more.

I had asked my parents to take me to a garden centre. I wanted to grab a bit of Christmas spirit before the end of my time off, so they took me to Holden Clough near Clitheroe. Having previously visited Stephen H. Smith’s Garden Centre in Otley, which was filled with baubles and tinsel, like a series of Christmas grottos, Holden Clough was distinctly up-market, but cheery nonetheless.

Tuesday was another fine day and Triar and I walked through Settle, which by now, had a few decorations of its own.

We then headed up Constitution Hill and along the aptly named Highway, which runs along the side of the valley with views over Ribblesdale.

Dad took me to look at a car on Wednesday. It was an X3 like the one I had to leave behind in Norway, but I took it for a test drive and although the engine sounded sweet, the steering was behaving very oddly. I suggested I would go back and test drive it again, once they’d fixed the tracking (which was his theory as to what the problem was) but was told the car wouldn’t be fixed up until someone bought it. As I was unwilling to buy a car that I wasn’t certain would be fixed by the proposed changes, I decided to pass. On Thursday, I had planned to have a nice, easy drive to Dumfries before starting work on Friday, but having found another X3 for sale in Glasgow, I took a detour there to look at it and this time, I decided to go for it. It went for its MOT yesterday and will be serviced next week and hopefully, I will collect it next weekend.

Yesterday was my first day in my new job. I met my new boss, K (though she corrected me to line manager when I asked) who helped me with getting set up on my new computer and together, we made a plan for the coming months. There are some courses I will be taking before I start to tackle the challenges ahead. There’s a lot more work with notifiable disease in Scotland than there was in my remote corner of Norway, so I’ll be learning how to tackle bird flu first and then TB. It sounds like there will be a lot to get my teeth into. I met G, who’s an animal health officer of eighteen years standing. He seemed very knowledgeable and also makes a mean cup of coffee, so I quickly felt at home. I also met L, another animal health officer, and she’s in charge of the stores. She has sorted out my new kit for me. It looks quite extensive and I am very glad the car I’ve bought has quite a sizeable boot.

There was also this rather scary looking hood, which I will have to use if I’m on a farm with suspected or confirmed avian influenza, until I get a properly fitted mask. After watching the horror show arguments about equipment in the UK during Covid, I’m very pleased that the agency seems to take my protection very seriously.

I went to Donna’s house after work. Donna and I met thirty years ago when we were both working in Stranraer, so it was wonderful to catch up and I immediately felt at home, which is just as well as I’m staying with her and her husband, Will, next week. My furniture is still somewhere wandering on the other side of the North Sea, but I’ve been offered a comfortable bed in her lovely cottage, so I’m already looking forward to going back.

For now I’m back in Yorkshire and Triar is asleep on my feet. It feels like a good start to the weekend.

Just Visiting

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At the beginning of the week, Mum, Dad, Triar and I took a short trip to Dumfries. The main purpose was to pick up the keys of my newly rented house. Donna, a friend who lives in Dumfries had kindly been to inspect it for me, but I rented it without seeing it and I wasn’t sure what to expect. Happily, I love it. The picture at the top of the page is a view taken from the back garden, where there are sheep in the field. There are cattle in front of the house across the road too, so I instantly felt at home.

The house itself is pleasant enough. Hopefully Triar and I will be happy living there, once our furniture arrives.

The logistics of moving in remain complicated, mainly because I have no idea when Pickford’s will bring my furniture. I believe that it’s in a container and waiting to come over at the moment. Presumably once it’s in the UK, I’ll be told it’s arriving at quite short notice, but until then, it’s a guessing game. Various possibilities have been under consideration. Mum suggested an inflatable mattress, but the idea of camping out to that extent, with nowhere even to sit, wasn’t something I want to contemplate. She also suggested buying a chair or sofa bed, which I did consider, but finding one I like, which would be delivered in time, was difficult enough without then thinking about the fact that I would have to go back up to Dumfries to receive the delivery and then put it together before I could use it. So as yet, all I have done is to book myself in to the Premier Inn for Thursday night this week. I start work on Friday, so will need somewhere to sleep the night before. If necessary, I can hire a van and borrow a bed and an armchair from Mum until my things get here, but I can (hopefully) put that plan into action at fairly short notice if necessary. For now, I’ll just keep my fingers crossed that Pickford’s bring my stuff within the next week or so.

Dumfries seemed to be an attractive place with a river running through the centre and plenty of shops. We were in a café in the town centre which had signs up for a writers group on Wednesday evenings, so I may go along to that. There is also a women’s walking group, which I might try, but best of all, Donna has invited me out for a meal with some of her friends on 7th December. Having moved to Finnsnes in the middle of Covid, it took me a couple of years before I actually met anyone outside of work. Jumping into the middle of a social life seems like a dream.

The Midsteeple dominates the town centre in Dumfries

There are still lots of things that I am trying to get sorted out. Sliding back into UK life after fifteen years was never going to be straightforward. So far, I’ve bought a new telephone SIM and number, registered to vote, set up a bank account, registered my rental house for council tax (which the landlady had to remind me about) and notified the electricity supplier that I was moving in. I’ve still to register with a doctor, buy some oil (the house has oil central heating) and get myself a car. I can borrow Dad’s car temporarily, but I need to buy one that is suitable for work and get it insured for business use. I am trying to weigh up prices and reliability, taking into account the possibility that the government might put more restrictions on older cars. Price is particularly significant. I have money in Norway, but the exchange rate with the pound is so poor at the moment that using a large lump sum seems quite wasteful. I am spending part of each day trawling Auto Trader and Car Guru to see if I can find something I like, which is ULEZ compliant, has cruise control and is still within my budget. Fingers crossed!

Anyway, I’ll leave you with a couple more photos I took up in the Dumfries area. The first is another taken from the back of my new house, the second was taken on a short walk down a country lane, when we drove out to look at another house that’s for sale. Thanks for reading and I hope you have a lovely week as we head into December.