Today is the 4 year anniversary of the day that Bob and I first met. I remember it like yesterday, as our eyes met across the throng of people sat in the garden of The Ostrich in Bristol docks. The sun was shining and it was a beautiful early summer day that made Bob’s curly white coat shine luxuriantly. It also made Bob’s owner and my now wife Kate glow in an interesting fashion. I remember thinking that I’d never seen Lulu drinking around the docks before and that her autograph might be worth £50. Turned out she wasn’t Lulu, but an excitable greek bloke did offer me 50 quid for her a couple of years ago in Kalamata. Of course I could never have accepted; she’d have killed me.
Well, being just a few days from Kate’s birthday, I didn’t want to go for celebration overload, so our special treat consisted of a couple of pizzas and a bottle Co-op Cava Rosado, a witty little fruity number with a big nose and a lingering mouth of anti-freeze as Jilly would say.
Unfortunately one of the pet lambs is under the weather and so like a typical farmer Kate has done what any other rufty tufty northumbrian farmer would in this situation and bought No-Name in and snuggled her in a blanket on the vintage sofa in front of the roaring open fire. The lamb cannot believe her luck. Hand fed 4 cheese stonebaked pizza washed down with some pink bubbly. Admittedly she was a little sniffy about the Co-op label and the fact that it was Spanish (thank God that it was a good year for Cava), but after a couple of glasses she soon lost her inhibitions and seemed rather less worried by the Co-op label.
Hopefully she’ll be fine in a few days, but we are learning that sheep can be obstinately deceptive with their state of health. No-Name’s tongue has a distinct blue colour which isn’t particularly promising and suggests it’s not an infection.
Course I’m in an unusual position; unsure whether my concern should be that of a mother (all 5 of the pet lambs have decided that I’m the ewe that carried them, birthed them and then told them to sod off) or that of the man who paid £8 for her, spent a further £30 on feeding her up and now stands to make as much as a £2 profit if we could get £40 for her.
Well’ we’ll let you know how she gets on. I better go; schnooklebuns is shouting for another plate of peeled grapes. Happy anniversary.
You can never tell where these first encounters are going to lead …. if John hadn’t carried my Hula-hoop for me many years ago Bob might never have been at The Ostrich on that fateful day.
Sorry about the little one but we have been watching, on the telly, “Jimmy’s Farm” and his efforts with pigs, and animals do seem to keel over for no apparent reason. Haven’t yet seen his pigs in bed with him though!
I remember that day well, or rather I would have remembered it well if it hadn’t have been for the cider at the Ostrich. K & I were going shopping for her birthday present, when we got distracted by the pub en route. The rest is history as they say, but we never did make it to the shops.