The farmer wants his dinner

I am busy perparing dinner when I get a phone call from my husband. He is somewhere on the farm, finishing off something, as per usual. These were his words. "Listen, I am in cow shit. The cows from the neighbour's have broken out. They are all over the road. I have just rang the neighbours, but they need to go into town this evening. So they can't fix the fence. We have to round up the cows into our paddock."

I turn down the simmering pots, and head outside with Sabina. Keep in mind that I am still recovering from chemo here, and a walk to the road is a big effort. When I get there, I am very pleased to discover that he was only metaphorically speaking when he said he was "in cow shit". Phew!

Then we spend the better part of half an hour rounding up the cows into our paddock. Mainly it's a pretty passive and quiet task, as the cows take their time to decide - will they, won't they go through that gate?

And where does that leave our dinner? Well the potatoes got a bit too roasted, but somehow, everything else turned out fine.