Twin Obsessions

These days, whenever Bert isn't doing this....

Bert keeps smiling on even though he's having a bad hair fortnight

...he is to be found making stock. He feels he owes it to the pigs not to waste a bit of them. Of course stockmaking means he is to be found consulting the guru....

Clarinet discarded for a wonderful moment or so

Hannah laughed at me this afternoon when I remarked in grumpy tones,

I think Bert should get his own kitchen!

I wonder if Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall cleans up after himself?

By the way, Bert was slightly reluctant posing for these pictures.

Sure look at the cut of my hair!

Hannah cajoled him by telling him that his fans wouldn't care about his hair and that Hugh's hair was a bit of a state too.

Hugh rocking his trademark lank curls look

The stock is delicious. I'll never be able to go back to manufactured cubes after this.

Two Little Piggies

Our two pigs came home last night...

in six cardboard boxes.

Pig's Last Supper

Pig's Last Meal, originally uploaded by NellyMoser.

Bert was a bit down yesterday. Here he is just after giving the pigs their last supper.

So will they not be getting any breakfast then?

Oh aye. They'll be getting breakfast alright. Just enough to lure them on to the trailer.

I was a coward and took Matty off on a sofa buying trip to Antrim. I didn't want to be around when they left. But poor Bert had to help Clint load them on to the trailer and take them to the bacon factory. The breakfast trick didn't work. They didn't want to get on that trailer. Afterwards, when the job was done, Clint said I must 'be gentle' with Bert as he'd found the experience a bit hard.

A Rare Breed

This past week Bert was considering buying in a few rare breed type cattle to graze in his plantation. He’d been thinking about Dexters but they’re hard to keep in and fencing wouldn’t be one of his strong points. Someone had told him about these Irish Moiled cattle that were grazing at the Ecos centre in Ballymena so we went along to have a look. The word was that the owner might be looking to sell them.

They are lovely cattle Moilies but nevertheless, Clint and I have persuaded Bert that there is no point in rushing into it. As I pointed out to him, he’s not actually had that much luck with beasts that certain folk have chatted him into.

Remember the rabbits Bert? Your mother was raging with you when you landed home with those. Suggested that they’d been palmed off on you by some boy you fell in with at a road-house.

It’s well seen she knows little about pubs if she thinks they’re frequented by boys with pockets full of rabbits.

Remember all those babies they had? Little brown babies got on them by wild buck rabbits that screwed them through the hutch wire.

Aye. We had to take that lot over to Gallaghers and set them free.

Then there was Bob and that palamino from Greenmount.

Bob was a lovely horse.

Aye. He was. But he was useless for riding. Always trying to scrape you off by walking tight up to the hedges. And do you remember how the pair of them kept breaking out? They were always running up and down the Dreen Road with you after them like an eedjit.

And you mind all those boys that kept stopping with me while I was running after them offering to buy the pair of them of me?

And you eventually broke and took a very bad price of the last fellow that asked you. Said they were going to a riding school. I’m sure.

What do you mean?

Far more likely they were going for dog food.

Don’t be depressing me.

Anyway – can you imagine the Moilies? When they’re not racing about the roads they’ll be out getting shagged by the wrong sort of bull. They’ll be a quare rare breed then.