I lay on my back in the mud and reflected that I hadn't had an afternoon like this for some considerable time.
I hadn't missed it a bit.
Mid-afternoon I'd discovered that Haka the pig (he's all-black) had decided the nice stone building to which I'd moved him and his brothers wasn't quite like home so - no doubt whistling the Great Escape theme - he had bust through the electric fence and returned to the main pigshed where he was busy saying hello through the barriers to his sisters and to Molly's piglets.
I got the feed bucket out and tried tempting him out. It was only a partial success and, after half-an-hour, we'd made it about three feet down the alley between the buildings.
At this point Haka had second (or third) thoughts, turned round and skidaddled back inside and to square one. I tried again and spent another 15 minutes or so trying to shift the stubborn little sod.
Pat came out to help and, at about the 14th attempt, we got Haka to within a couple of yards of where he should have been, only for him to turn round and attempt to make a break for it. At which point I did the wrong thing, let frustration take over and grabbed him by the front feet. He wriggled a lot and managed to knock me over backwards.
So there I lay, hoping the dampness seeping through the layers to my bum cheeks was just water. I took time to tell myself off for skiving out of bucket training, took a deep breath and we decided to leave the lad in the pigshed, hastily throwing up a quick barrier to keep him in.
Bucket training starts in the morning.