A new thing I learnt last Thursday, cattle (by cattle I mean cows and goats) are named alphabetically each year. So this year there are lots of Lavinia’s and Lucy’s in the goat shed, all fat and bulging as they wait to have their kids. The boys will be sent of to become goat stew while the girls get a life of breeding ahead of them. It feels a cut throat (literally) world.
This was my first proper visit to the farm, we’d spent the morning making hot cross buns before heading out for a walk around. I was getting a real feel for the place before I had to sit down at a computer and start researching.
Could we have a scarecrow festival and include the local village? A rural arts conference? An art trail of Land Art? I’ve got so many ideas but need to remember the people who visit the farm, people and the carers who have to live with dementia and enduring mental health illnesses. They travel from surrounding areas to spend the day in this beautiful setting.
I worry that I’m not up to the job before another new idea pings in…
