Thursday, 18 October 2007
Listening to: the sound of happy pigs
Drinking: Dragonhead stout
Weather: sunshine, wispy cloud, wind has dropped
Reading: Countryside Direct catalogue
Birdwatch: a dozen curlews in the top field
It's U-turn time on Westray. Yesterday I began to meander down Self-pity Alley, letting the inevitable problems that go with being a sports journalist trying to be a farmer get on top of me. Today I'm chirpy again and it's largely thanks to a therapy session with Eric and Ernie.
The boys are coming on a treat, growing fast, eating well (they fall on their tea-time potatoes like a pack of hungry Wolves) and generally settling in beautifully. They no longer react to my approach as if they have had 10,000 volts passed through them. They don't run squealing around the shed, but come up to the gate as I climb over.
And they now allow me to give them a bit of a stroke, pat them and rub their back - pigs like that, just as we do. So it was that I spent the best part of an hour-and-a-half in the shed yesterday afternoon, eventually sitting down on the floor while they snuffled around my feet, nibbling at the leg of my trousers.
I emerged happier, more positive and quite recovered from the cry-baby wobble of the previous night.
Pig therapy. . . in a world stuffed with new age cranks and phoney remedies, I'm pleased to recommend something that actually works. Try it.