Mrs Down's Diary August 27 2008

The eleventh heifer, however, will not join her sisters in the field. She was the victim of a management mistake and was not dehorned when young. As a result, she sports some rather wicked-looking headgear and has quickly learnt to bully the other heifers if she wants to be first into the barley trough.

One of the older suckler cows is also horned and was a real nuisance over winter when at the silage face. She knew the other cows would get out of the way if she gave them a swift jab with her horns, and although no damage was caused, John was especially fearful that one of the calves might be harmed. She, too, is bound for market once her calf is weaned.

The swallows will not be joining many more market trips. The fledglings are fully grown and will leave the nest in the next couple of days.

Both Mum and Dad sit patiently on the telegraph wires waiting for the trailer (where they nested) to return home. This morning they both had beaks stuffed with insects and were straight in once the trailer was parked up.

The birds would have been quite surprised at the transformation in the yard over the last week. As a combined wedding anniversary and birthday celebration, John decided to hold a clay shoot at home. He has a friend who sets up a professional rig, is fully insured and a qualified instructor for any amateur shots.

Two traps are set on a 'cherry picker'. A high, cantilevered crane that fires off the traps to a pre-set pattern. Very impressive. "Its quite a tame layout," Andy said.

That's not what the guns thought. "Bit testing these," was the main comment. But thoroughly enjoyed by all, even though one friend decided to break their gun over the nearest gate.

We had a house-full staying including my sister and her family from London. My brother-in-law, niece and her husband are all very high ranking civil servants and found the whole weekend entertaining and different. After a morning's fishing at the pond, good things to eat, rides in our ancient Land Rover, shooting lesson and a farming lecture, they came up with the bright idea of us running team-building events for the civil service (paid for, presumably I thought, by us tax payers).

"You could charge a fortune," they said. "People would love it. Get them to do some mucking out, fetch the sheep home, milk a cow (? I don't think so, especially not Mrs Horny) and feed them this delicious beef and the apple pie."

Mrs Practical me. "What about risk assessments? Insurance? Public liability? Sleeping arrangements?" Cerebral civil servant types are mainly ideas merchants. They see it as being plain miserable to actually work out the impact, reality and practical possibilities of a bright new concept and then debunk it. New ideas do work, but John and I are not keen at dealing with the general public in that context, so we will stick to only putting on a good show when it is friends and family involved.

"What is good" John said "is that people are willing to pay for the lifestyle we take for granted." I know. We are very privileged to live, with all its faults, in this country, and especially, in this countryside.