Kim is expecting. . . and, heavens, isn't she making a song and dance out of the whole thing?
We moved the senior sow from her spot in the bottom field into the maternity suite last week. She's due to farrow on Wednesday.
She lumbered up the lane easily enough, but, by the time she had snuffled through the bedding that was lovingly prepared by the pig "farmer", she was obviously knackered and in need of a large G&T and a lie-down. Being a pig, she got only one of these.
So, she rummaged through the staw I'd put out for her, tried not to look disappointed at the lack of a bed with clean sheets and then snuggled down. Right down. Lots of deep breathing. Is that panting? Can't tell? You don't think. . . ?
As a result, The Big Eeejit (that'd be me) sat up most of the night, making checks every 20 minutes and was completely banjaxed by the time he came to deliver breakfast to pigs, ducks and hens the next morning.
Kim, on the other hand, was refreshed from a good night's sleep and bright as a button - well, as bright as a 450lb pig ever gets.
I swear I heard chuckling as I left the pigshed.