As the day is nearing, I'm having great trouble getting to sleep. I keep seeing them wrenched off of their feet & having their throats cut. Damn that bloody Kill It, Cook It, Eat It programme... I think it's going to be tomorrow, but our home phone is out of order & I've had to be at the surgery all day today so I don't know whether the butcher has sorted it for the morning or Friday morning. The abattoir only takes them up to 11am, so if he's not here by 10ish, they'll have been reprieved for a day. I hope they are as the weather's due to be lovely tomorrow - it'll be nice to see them snuffling around in the sunshine for the last time. Oh God, just typing that has caused tears to prick my eyes.
Sorry for not blogging much of late, I'm feeling increasingly low as their end looms. Exacerbated by the fact that BT just can't seem to grasp how important it is to have a bloody landline here. Mobiles are out of range unless you walk up to the field & hang off of a tree & I can't sit at the pc all day. We might be living in the 21st century, but sometimes I feel that this little bit of County Durham is still nestled somewhere in the 18th century... I've no idea what the problem is, but the engineer who finally called in late this afternoon (reported the fault 2 days ago) said that he thinks it's a problem way down the line and that he'll have to pass it on to his 'underground engineers' who'll call me on my mobile to let me know what's going on. Cosmic.
I shall try to keep my chin up for the sake of the two new weaners who are still due to be coming this weekend or early next week. I'm thinking about names. Is it terrible of me to be considering naming them Kitty & Joanie after my nanny & her twin?
VP x
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