Things in my head (memories of Coldbrook):

Fleece on in bed, straw in sleeves. Smelling of milk / Wrists itching.

A family meeting with farm consultant: people constantly in and out of room; and tea

Rowena on our night out, jumping around like a Coldbrook calf

How whole calves are when they come out

Whether I've under-estimated differences between us: art & farming; me & them

Incubator lambs under a light in a yellow tub in the calf shed

Milk which for three years after conversion to organic farming was thrown in with non-organic

The consequences (tragedy) of my mistakes: feeding calves too much milk and them being ill, potentially terminally. What that means (econom & welf). Also accidently cutting down raspberry plants in garden which were due to flower that year (shit)

Q of quality of life: Sam and Doug working here, long hours, living in caravans and earning a fraction of many of my friends / contemporaries in London as bankers etc; and yet, the air! the space! the home, not travelling. What things are worth and what I want. The fucking hardness of life, whatever.