The water supply has finally come back. Properly.
There has been quite a dramatic thaw and the hill is showing patches of old heather and bracken. It is the perfect environment for the Arctic hares and there are a lot of them in this area. The little stoat has changed into his winter coat and prances about in the snow like a tiny, mad Emperor.
The Farmer and I have caught the lurgy from the children. We both feel as if we are wading through treacle whilst wearing an iron lung.
Bags of feed become Sisyphean burdens, filling the water troughs akin to Prometheus and his liver problem and lest we forget, the Stables of the Minotaur and the mucking out of The Dung.
The fire has been lit, all the radiators cranked up to full, hot water bottles filled and once the animals have been fed and watered, we will not be moving too far today.
We will wolf down painkillers and have ten minute updates to one another on who feels the worst. We will punctuate our conversations with coughing and moans.......Oh joy.
That is the sort of tonic we need today.