The Blog From The Bog; Disjointed rants and ravings of a fluently foul mouthed, ex pat living in Co. Leitrim, here giving full rein to his own quirkiness. The character of " Ditch Shitter " having been forged, over years, on 'The Hunting Life' forum proved so strangely popular with enough people there, before I left, that their now constant drip of " Long time, no see; What ye up to? " notes has led me to answer them all, here.
Saturday, October 10, 2015
My New Gate Arrived Today ....!
Lovely piece of work too!
And by the way; I'm just chucking this in here to let ye know I'm still alive. Just so fucking scatter brained busy, I have a massive back log of shit ~ and photo's! ~ to some day stitch in here. Fucking Years worth!!!
For the moment though .....
Pesticle leapt out of bed and was shouting her head off, today. " Dad! Dad! Someone's out there! " . I figured it was just Pat, come to check on his cows. We share the track and he pops through my paddock to short cut to his lower meadow, half a dozen or so times a year.
Pesticle, of course, can't quite get her head around such new ~ to her ~ and sporadic stuff. She loves Pat, just like she loves everyone else on this planet. I got up. Glanced out. Saw his van, plainly parked out there. Yep. Cow checking. Went back to bed. Thought no more of it.
This evening, I've chained and fed the hairy Dogs. Got the horses grub and wandered down to the pen, where I now feed the donkeys ~ training them to come in there on my call, see?
Lo and fucking behold! My gate's there!Fucking beast of a thing. Custom built to keep even my Rosie off the stored hay. I didn't dare touch it. If I had it over? I'd be found beneath it ~ eventually!
What Pesticle had actually been shouting ~ though my woken up, sleep craving mind had failed to decipher it ~ was:
"Dad! Dad! Pat's just pulled up, in his van. And now he's physically lugging this fucking great, steel, gate. It must weigh a ton and I bet you couldn't even lift it! And he's carrying it down to the pen! "
And all I can say is; " Pesticle?! Cuddle Cave! Get back in here and snuggle up! "
Pat. That's just Pat for ye. Any normal man would have waited till he figured I was off my back. Rang me and told me he was fetching this thing. Be ready and We'd hump the fucking thing down to the pen. I'd have struggled to keep my end up. Probably have called a breather halfway there.
They say there's no moles on this island? Well; If ye believe that? Ye know fuck all about moles and ye've never been to Co. Leitrim and met the likes of Pat
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