...but at least it's sunny.

I think I stretched the belt on the lawnmower, when it hit some sticks in the long grass. It falls off again after a couple of seconds. Perhaps I'll have a nature garden this year. Or a hay paddock.

We've made a start on painting the spare room. It's pink. But it's a *man's* pink. Well, one wall is, anyway. The rest is going to be a more girly shade once we get more paint.

We're not planning on a holiday this week, although I took a day off anyway and made a dent in the layers of debris around the house. It's getting into the silly season. Christmas parades, carolling and summer camps. Hopefully I'll survive until boxing day. It gets easier then.

We've had the lambing season, now it's the calving season. A few years ago we had a calf called Spotty. She's now had a calf herself, also with the trademark spot in the forehead. I thought of the name "Son of Spotty", but Bronwyn's dad decided to call him Dick, as in Spotted Dick. (It's an English currant pudding, which is largely unknown over here. Just don't shout the name too loudly!)

We've also identified this year's Houdini lambs, named after the great escape artist. It must be some genetic trait; we get them every year. They've found holes in just about every fence, and they use them freely. I'm not sure if there's a market for a Houdini gene...

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