March sun burn, leaves and elastic bands

Regular Barnacre Alpaca Blog readers will know that Debbie gives an excellent running commentary on our life pursuing the alpaca dream, but every now and again she takes advantage of her higher status and issues the instruction “can you do the blog while I feed Eubank (the foster lamb), ah go on, everyone likes it when you do it” do they?! Well fans here is today’s gripping instalment.

First off, I’m ginger and flowing locks of curly hair are but a memory consigned to pre-salaried years. Nevertheless, I don’t remember the last time I got sunburnt in March. “Proof” I hear you say, well you might have done, or you might not be interested, even so I have the proof that the more engrossed and caring folks demanded. Voila:


They say men can not multi task, well I took a picture of my own red, sunburnt ear whilst holding a piece of white paper for dramatic effect. Proof positive of March sunburn.

That’s one down and three to go (check title, come on, keep up).

About four hours of my life today was dedicated to raking and picking up the autumn and winter leaves that adorn the paddocks to the back of the house. They will make a fantastic base to the compost bins that we have strategically placed like black prototype Daleks. I consoled myself with the thought that firstly the paddocks looked much cleaner (Debbie said she didn’t notice but I won’t hold it against her for many months), the grass will grow quicker and pines cones won’t get stuck in alpaca fleeces as they (the alpacas) deliberately seek out the most fleece damaging sections of grass to have a good old roll on.

I have no trees, nice neighbours, but nasty trees that deliberately shake their leaves all over my paddocks.

Two down.

Poor old Eubank. Today was not one but two elastic bands day. Nope, he wasn’t carefully constructing a model plane made of Balser wood with a propeller powered by elastic bands. It was the day all little boy lambs who haven’t been identified as herdsires, I mean tups/rams (depending on where you live in the country), dread. Oh yes, it was one for the tail and one for, well let’s just say that the crows will have a little meat to go with the eggs that they pinch from next door in a couple of weeks time when some loose change hits the ground. If you’ve lost me on that one, he was castrated. Poor little man, it looked like he was really sad because he’d lost his favourite rat trap, and then was even sadder that it had found him first.

Three out of three, a free photo of my ear to treasure as a gift between internet friends, and hopefully a little smile on your face before you head off to bed. Alternatively, consign this piece of literary insignificance to the bin, just under the leaves in paragraph five and be safe in the knowledge that my superior will be back on duty tomorrow.

Night all.

Paul