More rain. After a month of none, it's been almost continuous. Not so bad today; yesterday was wet, wet, wet. Today's light mist and drizzle like sunshine in contrast.

How am I doing?

Well, first of all, what:

I've been working with Sam and the (I'm guessing) 75+ yr old Frank (neither of whom seem to bat an eyelid at the rain). I've been helping to feed animals, patch up a bit of stone wall, clean the sheep pen and run 111 gimmer hogs (one yr old females) through the pen to trim their feet (cut nails) and shear around their arses (poooooo-ey).

That was Sunday. I coped alright to start off with and then, as I became increasingly more sodden and less enthusiastic about learning / helping and frustrated about what I could do, I came to feel depressed and tired. Standing around in the rain watching other people do things is not good for you. Especially when your waterproof is not... waterproof. So at about 3 / 4 o'clock I left them to it, the sheep's bums, and went inside to get dry and clean (and failed to get rid of the smell of sheep). I admit it: I thought I was tough (I do try), but there's no denying it, I'm not a farmer.

I've learnt a few things though, in the rain; and it's been fun at times. I particularly like brushing down the pen (a job for every kind of weather), sweeping along the ridges of the cement, using the rain and the slight gradient down towards the field at the pen's edge to clear out the muck, the hair and the shit. Satisfying and wierdly addictive, getting out the hose to peel away the mud at the bases of wooden posts. Using my arms, feeling the connection between my body and the work.

Another point of interest is the way that everything reminds me of sheep: from the smell on my hands to my woolen cardigan; I think about them when clipping my nails; even my own breasts and vagina... (I am horrified)