The Expense of Snowy Weather (and some more photos)

As you can see from my header photo, sheep always look dirty in the snow. Their fleeces appear a dark creamy colour. At least it makes them easy to find. But it also means twice as much work for the Farmer when he has to ride round the fields with feed in the form of silage bales. This also means having to spend twice as much money on fuel  We put red diesel in the agricultural machinery, i.e., tractors and combine, and of course white diesel in our cars. The red diesel has a dye in it so it's easy to tell the difference. There is no VAT on red diesel which means it is illegal to put it into your car. People have been caught occasionally, I've known one or two round here, and the minimum fine currently stands at (I think) £1,000.

But when bad weather hits us like this, farmers in particular find it difficult to make ends meet, having to make allowances for the extra fuel and their extended working hours. I guess I can partly understand why some try to cheat the system and put red diesel in their cars. If they don't get caught it means they're paying half as much for fuel than they would normally pay at the garage. And as our white diesel round here currently stands at £1.24 per litre, that is quite some saving. Of course it means diddly-squat if they get caught and end up having to pay the £1,000 fine. We don't take chances though, we play by the rules. I'd guarantee that if we ever did take the chance, just the once, we'd get caught straight away. Sod's law, really. Here are a few more pictures of the snow. It hasn't got any better either, and my mood hasn't improved much!

The bench

Front of the house. See the vast amount of snow on the roof.

Sledging

Meggie (with the stick) and Bonnie

Sparky

Bonnie & Meggie in the garden.

Miss Amy.

The bird table outside the kitchen window.

The White Stuff

The weather in Northumberland has been absolutely awful. Snow, snow and more snow has fallen and we are now knee deep in the white stuff. I have a phobia of snow. I know, I know, I sound like Gillian McKeith, but I really don't like it. It changes my mood; makes me grumpy and irritable. I don't mind it being cold, freezing even, but snow is just too much. Anyway, for those of you who don't actually mind it, I thought I'd show you what the farm looks like right now. The dogs love it, as does Amy, and she had a day off on Friday because they closed the school. Here are the photos:

See the hens contemplating whether or not to come out of their house...

Patio area

Driveway

The Garden

The garden, looking towards the fields.

The holly tree

The countryside

Shopping with the Farmer

Going to the supermarket with the Farmer is always, for some reason, an eventful experience. I only wanted a few bits and came out with a trolley packed to the brim with items that weren't on my list. And he's the one who's always watching the purse-strings! So there we were, parading up and down the aisles, filling the trolley with biscuits and, for want of a better word, crap, when I thought I'd get a couple of extras such as Christmas cards, a set of four tops for my niece, and a DVD. We got to the checkout and began to load the items onto the conveyor belt thingy, an elderly couple in front buying about twelve bottles of what looked like champagne and having real problems trying to pay for them. It seemed their card wouldn't work. I felt sorry for them, if that's ever happened to you, it's so embarrassing isn't it? And yes, it's happened to me, too. But why do I always pick the slowest-moving tills?

I instructed the Farmer (I'm quite bossy) to carry on loading items while I packed at the other end. He's done the packing before and takes ages. I said to the till lady, "it's much easier doing the shopping on your own," and she agreed. In fact, I think it's easier taking Amy with me.  So the shopping was packed, and I paid. Then we made our way to the door. There were a few people milling about, some coming in and some going out, and a security man looking rather suspicious. Then it happened: the sirens went off, lights flashed, every one turned round and said, "who's that?" The security man came after me and the Farmer, stopping us before we left the building. I thought he was going to strip search me at one point. Perhaps it was wishful thinking. He was polite when he asked if he could look through our things, asking if we had bought anything like clothes or DVD's. I had to show him the receipt, only to have eyes glaring in our direction as though we were common criminals. He let me off, of course, and we finally left. Now, I hope the DVD will be worth all the fuss. It's called, Nativity.

Round Up of News

At this time of year the ground is constantly muddy as the rain continues to fall. It sometimes stops, allowing us a breather, and then the black clouds come back and once more we find great big tears falling from the sky. Amy asked me, "why is God so upset?" I didn't answer because I couldn't think of anything to say. I guess it's just something that she thinks happens when it rains. The dogs aren't bothered about the weather though I think they secretly enjoy being tucked up by the Aga. As for me, I hardly go out at this time of year because it's much too cosy in the house.But then the clouds disperse and a little blue shows through, revealing optimism on an otherwise miserable day.

I've been really busy recently, trying to get my book to submission state, changing the plot slightly because there were too many characters. I'm definitely a lot happier with it now that the love triangle has gone but, as I've learnt, it's not easy deleting carefully chosen words in order to make way for new ones. I've cut around ten thousand words this last week and added about four thousand.  Amy has been busy writing recently, too. I've published a new post on her blog, it's a story she wrote last week and I think it's really lovely. I've decided that I'm going to collate her short stories and make them into a book. I'll do this once I've finished the editing on Breaking Ice.

I'll also be doing a giveaway on here in the next couple of weeks. It's going to be Northumberland-themed and the items will consist of books and gifts concerning traditional Northumberland. Having reached an amazing 1,300 followers last weekend, I want to do something in return. This blog means a great deal to me; it's been a huge part of my life for more than three years and if I can give something back, then that is what I'll do. So watch this space. It'll be a simple giveaway; there will be no "you have to follow me in order to enter" or "leave a comment" etc. I'd rather people read my blog and enjoyed it, and having them follow is a massive bonus. There's enough bribery and corruption going on in this house as it is!!

Drive Me

Being epileptic can have a drastic effect on someones life. This year it has turned mine upside down after I had to surrender my driving licence. I'm hoping I'll get it back next year some time, but I take each day at a time and never get too complacent. But not being to drive in this far away corner of the world has proved extremely challenging. Fortunately, I have good friends who have helped me out; taking me shopping, social events, run an errand here and there, and the other week of course, my friend took me to Rotherham when I went to visit the school for autism. I have a very good friend who takes Amy to school every day and without her help we would have been truly stuck. There's no school transport round here. They even refused when I offered to pay extra! I hope that when I can drive again I'll be able to chip in with the school run.

But I keep asking myself the question; would you want someone who has epilepsy and has been unable to drive because of it, taking your children to school? It's a good question, isn't it. You have to be free from seizures for at least twelve months before you can drive again. I know I'm capable of driving, and I love doing it, but when a seizure can just happen without warning, is this something you would be prepared to risk for the safety of your child? I'm not sure I even want to contemplate an answer. I mentioned it to someone a few weeks ago, but she didn't say anything. I guess I already knew the answer. I know my good friend who does the school run is more than happy to continue, even after I'm driving again, but for me, it's a matter of independence too. That feeling of being able to be like everyone else.

The Farmer's Underpants

It's an almost daily occurrence; cruddy undies and me bending down to pick them up from the floor. Here's my 53-second Vlog, asking the question, "Why?"

Lead me to a Brick Wall

These last few days I feel as though I have been taking one step forward and at least three steps back. I'm in the middle of (hopefully) the final edit of Breaking Ice. My editor is a tremendous help but I feel no matter how long I spend on each revision, I don't seem to be getting very far. Getting the plot believable now is imperative and as the editing has progressed I have realised just how important it is to plan the whole thing, chapter by chapter. I thought I'd find it easier than I am doing. Perhaps that was arrogant of me. I know there's no need to rush it but when I have the determination in my heart to do something, I rarely give up, and this is something I am determined to do.

To be honest, it really annoys me when I hear of some high-profile celebrity or other, particularly those who can't string two words together, writing a book and it going straight in the charts as a number one best-seller. I'm sure they would have worked on it but I'll be damned if they've worked as hard as I am doing right now. Money talks doesn't it. As does celebrity status. For me, getting this one right is my priority and having it published will be a bonus. So long as I'm not photographed on the front of a magazine with a low cut top and no make-up I'll be happy. However, if I ever do become famous, then at least let me put on some make-up first.

Gas Masks at the Ready

I knew there was a reason why I prefer to avoid public toilets. I was reminded at the supermarket over the weekend, after approaching the ladies, which is rather inconveniently situated next to the men's. The aroma hit me like a slap in the face as I turned into the corridor, seeing a man walk towards me, bow-legged and adjusting himself. The stench came from the door he had just gone through and I was most relieved at the prospect of having separate toilets. The lady who strolled in front of me turned round and pulled a face. I struggled to breathe and didn't dare open my mouth to say anything in case the fumes hit the back of my throat. What was revolting was the fact we weren't far from the fruit and veg. I could have sworn John Wayne was zipping up his fly. I only hoped he'd washed his hands before touching the meat.

I've always had a thing about public facilities; a thing that consists of being reluctant to use them. When we were in Scotland in October, most of the toilets we used were pay-only. Not a penny, but thirty-pennies was definitely worth it because they were all clean, bright and displaying fresh flowers by the sinks; each had plenty toilet paper and decent locks on the doors. I'm not the most hygienic person in the world, having four collies and hundreds of sheep means cleanliness isn't always an option. Using the facilities in places like supermarkets shouldn't be a nauseating experience; if a shop or organisation provides toilets they should be checked, cleaned and, in this case, fumigated. Even though I often moan about having to pay an astronomical amount of council tax, I am happy to find an extra 30p to have a hygienic wee.

Flutterby

Amy had the most amazing time on her residential last week. She went to a fantastic adventure centre for children, brilliantly supervised and full of exciting activities. She came home on a high. The packet of sweets in her bag could have had something to do with that but I could tell from her beaming smile how much she enjoyed herself. It was wonderful to see her. I could feel myself getting emotional again, but it was a totally different feeling to the one I experienced on Monday morning when watching her leave. This was that butterfly-in-the-tummy feeling, you know, the one you get when you see someone you haven't seen for ages and you're just so incredibly excited about it. A couple of people have asked this week how would I go on if I were to put Amy in boarding school but I have to say I feel that would be a totally different experience. If she was to go to boarding school it will be because she needs to, purely for her own benefit, and I will therefore just have to get used to it. Of course it will be difficult, but I'd walk to the moon and back for that kid.

An example of the smile I received; worth a million gold clocks.

Eyes Open

Before I start today's post, I want to direct you to a Review which has been written in favour of my paranormal novel, Breaking Ice.  I am immensely proud of it and would love you to read it. 

On Wednesday I went to visit a very special school in South Yorkshire called The Robert Ogden School. It is owned by the National Autistic Society and caters for children and young adults from age 7 to 19.  As well as being a day school it is also residential, either 38 weeks or 52 weeks a year, depending on your circumstances and the abilities of the child.  But after looking round and spending three hours discussing the school ethos, it became clear to me that it is definitely not the right place for Amy. Even though it is a wonderful environment, clean, up to date, secure, efficiently run, it would most definitely pull Amy back considerably and undo all the hard work that mainstream school and myself have achieved over the past five years. Being a child with autism on the higher end of the spectrum, I felt that Amy's needs wouldn't be met and gaining qualifications in young adulthood wouldn't have been encouraged. With respect, Amy's abilities would have been wasted. It was a shame I felt but I'm glad I went to see the school because now I know what is not the right environment for her.

What my visit to the school did do, on a positive note, is open my eyes to Amy's potential as an autistic child. She is highly musical, literate and confident and I intend to work with her to enhance these very specific attributes. The supervision at the autism school is second to none but Amy needs more independence than they would have given her which would naturally thwart her self-reliance. It's back to the drawing board.

May I draw your attention to a guest post I wrote for a blogging friend of mine, Kirsty, who blogs at Gone Bananas. The post is about my life with epilepsy - written as part of Epilepsy Awareness Month.

The Yellow Brick Road

It was a very strange Monday morning this week. I went to school with Amy and waved her off on a coach as she, her class mates and teachers set off on a residential. Huge hold-alls and rucksacks crammed into the belly of the coach as the children settled themselves in their seats, all peering out of the window to seek out waving parents. I noticed a few mums with tears in their eyes and tried hard to contain my own. But as the coach began to drive away and Amy waved frantically to me, blowing me a kiss before disappearing from view, I lifted my hand to my face and wiped away the first tear. And with that tear came another, then another. My friend linked her arm through mine and we walked back to her car, her having already been through the school residential goodbyes with her two other older children.

I was okay when I got in the car, hoping that Amy would be too of course. I'm sure she will be; the supervision is second to none and spending five days with her friends will be something she'll enjoy. She was so excited. I hugged her about a hundred times before we even left the house and, typically, when we got to school, she pulled her face when I reached in for a kiss. I stole one however, which will have to last until Friday afternoon. My baby, growing up much too fast. Monday morning just made me realise how fast.  It also made me realise how incredibly important she is in my life, sitting in an old empty house, the Farmer comforting the dogs whilst I listen out for a voice in the hallway to shout, "Muuuuuum!"

Milestone Wings

For the past few weeks Amy has been questioning her beliefs in the Tooth Fairy.  I've been trying so hard to keep her imagination running wild, watching, as each time she lost a tooth she would place it carefully under the pillow then stand at the window in the hope of seeing a flash of fairy wings appear from the trees.  The last few teeth that came out all got the pillow treatment even though, upon arriving home from school one afternoon not so long ago, she told me about a boy in her class who announced the tooth fairy doesn't exist.  I could have cried.  At almost eleven years old I knew the time to believe in such fantasies was limited and the big-girl conversation was inevitable but I've tried to put it off as long as I could.  Last night however, she told me another tooth had fallen out, adamant that I stayed in my bedroom to allow the fairy her big entrance through the window. "Fairies won't come if you're awake, or if there's someone in the room."

I cringed. It was 9.30 and bed time had approached but I knew what I needed to do.

"Can you go downstairs and get me some water?" I asked. My sneaky plan to find my purse, grab some coins, place them under her pillow and hide the tooth started to whiz round my head.

"You've got two bottles of water by your bed," she reminded me, typically not missing a trick.

"Well, erm, go to the toilet and I'll wait for you in your bedroom." Realising I was running out of options her face said it all as I looked into the big malteser eyes, filling with tears.

"You wait there then you can tuck me in and go back to your bedroom." I was almost crying myself at this point, knowing my baby had become a big girl right before my eyes.

"Okay," I said, "I'll just wait on the stairs." I took the opportunity whilst she was in the bathroom to fumble about for some coins before grabbing the tooth, which she had wrapped in tissue paper and wedged between her two pillows. But she caught me. I quickly moved away but it was no use.

Sitting down on the bed she began to cry in my arms as I stroked her hair and assured her it was okay to no longer believe in the tooth fairy. It was a huge milestone for her and another step into a grown up world. This morning whilst waiting for her lift to school, we sat on the bench outside the house when she looked up at the tree by her bedroom window. "So the tooth fairy doesn't exist," she said with a sigh, before wiping away the last sprinkle of fairy dust from her eyes.

Moving Swiftly On

I'm feeling very glamour-puss as I've been into town and had myself pampered with a new hair colour.  It was long overdue, the grey didn't suit me at all and made me feel quite washed out.  But this is a chestnutty permanent, all-over colour with sandy shade highlights.  The hair salon is a very upmarket establishment full of great looking trend-setters all with a mission.  It cost me a lot more than I would have normally paid but I've decided that I need to go there in future, seeing as they did such a good job, were incredibly efficient and pleasant to chat with.  They even asked me, "have you been on holiday this year?"

The tups have been put with the ewes today in order to do the "deed".  They have such an easy life, sitting around in the paddock all day, being fed and pampered, then out into the fields for two months whilst they prove their man-hood.  The ratio is quite incredible at around 30 ewes : 1 tup.  But you will be glad to know it isn't all sex and notches on bed posts.  When the tups are released, the ewes get hungry for what's on offer and it's not uncommon for a flock of horny ewes to surround a bewildered tup, encouraging him to make his choice.  Let's just hope they provide us with some healthy lambs next year.  In January the tups go back to their paddock where they take a ten month sabatical and the ewes meanwhile, well, let's just say, it sounds rather familiar...

Staying Optimistic

It isn't easy getting a book published, unless of course you're an established and well-connected author.  But if you have just found the ladder and have enough courage to step onto it I should imagine the reward is worth the hard work.  As many of you know I recently finished my manuscript about Camilla, a medium who discovers secrets, lies and romance within her new home, Rosehill.  There was me thinking it was all done and dusted, having self-edited three times, relatively happy with what I had, and then I decided to send it away to a professional editor thus making that first move to the world of publishing.  Nicole, the editor, is amazing.  She is now going through the book chapter by chapter, making suggestions that I never would have thought of, and helping me polish it up into a sparkling array of words.  Chunks have been taken out, chunks have been added; words have been changed and scenes have been altered.  But on the whole, even though there is much to do, I feel quite happy with what is now transpiring into the last three years of my life.  My thoughts and ideas were captured in a book as were my paranormal experiences and even though they appear interesting to me, I have learned during these last few weeks that they might not be quite so interesting to others.

As a member of the website, Authors On Show, I have been given a chance to showcase my work which is incredibly exciting for me.  This means a chance of having my manuscript read by those in the business and even a chance of having it published, and your support would be enormously appreciated.  It isn't going to happen over night and it might not even happen at all, but I have to try. To have been given this opportunity in the first place is a wonderful way to promote my novel, "Breaking Ice".  Please spare a couple of minutes to have a quick look at my page on AOS-Kathryn Brown, and see what they are doing for me; their founder, medium and author, Lorraine Holloway-White, has introduced me to what could become a very promising future.  Lorraine's latest book, A Sceptical Medium, is an introduction to who she is and, in my opinion, it is a fascinating read.  

P.s. If anyone has problems finding the piece on AOS, here's the full link: www.authorsonshow.com, click on Authors in the bar at the top then scroll down until you see me.  Many thanks xx