awful

I had the most awful experience the other day.

Firstly, I was in the much maligned but accurately so

Palmerston North.

Many people including myself have experienced this most awful of things.

I was on a course with a few Young Farmers and

a couple of Dairy Women's Network farmers.

On the course were a couple of my favourite young woman farmers.

Awesome Manz has just left working for NZYF for greener pastures,

actually she's moved to work for Beef+LambNZ

so it will be drier pastures

cause not that many sheep and beef farmers have irrigation.

Then there was Ruth.

Ruth has recently graduated from uni.

She's energetic, enthusiastic, delightful, fun and an amazing worker and leader.

She rides hunters and milks cows.

Has so much potential for so many things.

She's stepped up into Regional leadership for NZYF

and will be a huge support for Andrew the Chair.

My awful experience was as I listened to these young women,

I felt my age as I realised that I must have sounded just like them

when I was their age.

Open, curious, intelligent.

Clear in their communication skills,

willing to ask the hard and silly questions,

safe in their assurance they are who they are.

I was like that and

then life happened and

I got smart to how to play the games.

I do like bending the rules in the games and

I know as I head into middle age

(least I think it's middle age,

I might not quite be there yet cause the baby boomers,

the generation of my parents, keep shifting the start age for middle age

proving you are only as old as you feel.

That makes me 31).

I'm glad I've learned the lessons I have,

I enjoyed tackling life and learning my lessons

now I realise that plenty of women who had gone before me

had shared a bit of their wisdom but I was too young,

too convinced of my own knowledge

to really listen.

Besides that I would never have listened to my mother.

Everyone knows your mum has no life experiences.

Have a glimpse of how you were is both awful

and wonderful.

Awful, because I recognise missed opportunities for myself

to recieve and to give advice.

Wonderful, because I can see how much I've learned and experienced and

how my life has panned out so well.

I am blessed, that's true.

Blessed to know so many great people

who add so many experiences and understadnings to my life.

I'm blessed I am willing to learn and to continue doing so.

BYU Womens Conference

Is on right now at Brigham Young University in Prove, Utah.

Two fun experiences I've had relating to the Womens Conference

in the last day or two have been.....

Firstly, I am not at Conference I'm still here in Nu Zild.

But I was included in Melanie Rewai-Couch's talk at Conference.

Some months ago a film crew came from Deseret Books,

the people who put the Womens Conference on,

to interview some of our Sisters about their experiences

relating to the multitude of earthquakes we've had.

They interviewed people like Liz who was in the

CTV Building that collapsed on Feb 22nd.

This is the same building that my friend Jo was killed in

as she was at work and the multi storied building sandwiched.

Liz was on the fifth floor at work when the earthquake hit,

Jo was on the second when the building collapsed.

Those on the fifth floor were able to climb

down the height of just one floor onto the street.

Today more than a year later,

you can see the trauma Liz carries with her.

She is still her intelligent,spunky self

just is weary and cynical,

well let's be more accurate,

she is more so than she was before the earthquake.

I love having Liz in the Relief Society classes I teach

because she adds so much to the content and

takes the lesson in direction I always hope it will.

My very small bit in this story is that I gave a Sacrement talk on the Sunday

the film crew were here.

Mel had asked me to weave in an earthquake experience or two.

So I did, which of course caused tears.

This is exactly what cameras want to see.

Excellent, my teary, contorted face on a huge screen

with 15,000 people watching.

Oh just another day in the parallel universe know as Mormon world.

Melanie is also like this an awesome woman like Liz.

Smart, tough, analytical, fabulous.

The perfect person to go to Utah and speak in front of 15,000 women

sharing our stories of survival and resilience.

That's Mel on the left with Sistas in Zion bloggers

Sista Laurel and Sista Beehive.

Yesterday morning I woke up to the Sistas tweets about the Conference.

On facebook Mel had posted about her pre-talk nerves.

I was so excited for her!

This is huge deal speaking at this conference.

Not just that but Mel is a supa wonderful speaker

cause she is by far the best speaker I know

but cause she gets to do this

and that we all get to share in her opportunity

via the film from a couple of months ago.

I tweeted back to the Sistas to go find Mel and give her a hug from us all.

And they did!

I love being connected to so many people.

I can't quite remember was it was like to not be connected to people across the world.

Now it's so instant and immediate.

Yay twitter!

The women in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints

are awesome, diverse, powerful women.

I am honoured to count myself as part of that tribe.

Leeston Fete

It was the Leeston Fete today.

The second annual Leeston Fete that is.

We had the mandatory vehicle display
on the main street closed for the day.
The weather was perfect t-shirt temperatures
not that cynical Cantabrians will allow themselves to
enjoy such foolery as short sleeves.

First place I searched out was the Black Forest Waffle Hut.
Last year the inaugural Leeston Fete had seriously bad weather but
plenty of people still came out.
I lined up then for waffles with cream and cinnamon
and I lined up today too.
I live for waffles from fairs, fetes, galas and markets.
Freshly ironed waffles, yum!

I should know this pirate's name but now at the end of the day I can't!

(I have a post coming up about getting older).

There was plenty of awesome kids entertainment on.

Between the pirate and the bouncy castle

there was these huge transparent plastic balls

that the kids climbed inside and tumbled themselves around a pool of water.

Looked fun.

I wanted a go but I suspect a grown up inside a transparent ball

may have taken the fun out of the experience for the kids.

I think they have replaced dodgem cars.

And because winter is long around here,

and people love their animals

we have Cab 4 Ewe.

Don't worry, it will be able to be driven

and the sheep will recline in the back as they tootle down the road.

(this is a gross exageration, that wire wouldn't hold the sheep in)

I like the wooden gate best.

Very true to kiwi number 8 wire tradition.

Our tiny town is pulling together since the earthquakes started.

We get out and buy the sausages sizzles with bread and onion

raising money for the kindy.

And then another sausage from the Fire Brigade.

Waffles, kebabs, hot dogs on sticks, hot chips, coconut ice, fudge

it's just an orgy of poor food choices,

but all off set by all the walking and standing around chatting.

Right neighbourly it is, the old Leeston Fete.

I bought manuka/clover honey from Sheehans

Leeston is the centre of New Zealand's bee belt.

I finally found daffodil bulbs for less than a dollar each

so had a wee glut buy of those

(all planted this afternoon).

And that was about me really.

Oh and two fresh, crisp waffles.

That will be it until Feildays.

wormfarms

I have a wormfarm.

I love my wormfarm.

Don't really love my worms.

You'd think they are slippery little suckers

but they aren't.

I swear one bit me.

I had to stick my hand in the worm poo to uncover these babies.

They like hiding in the eggshells.
To be fair, and you know I am,
I was pulling the wormies out of the muck so I could plant roses
 in the rich, gooey worm poo.
Yes with my bare hands.

Wormfarms have layers like this.

In my case there are three.

You put your kitchen waste in one layer at a time.

By kitchen wasteI mean vege scraps,

tea bags, peelings - except potatoes cause they just grow.

I always add some bokashi mix to help the veges scraps

 breakdown faster,

I'm impatient like that.

The worms eat all the veges

and poo it out and it becomes juicy, mucky, rich soil.

Do you know in my town the nightsoil collections ran up until 1975?

My town did not have a sewerage system until 1975!

Cause I just cleaned out the bottom layer

and mixed in the second layer together with the third layer

my wormfarm paddock is just the one very full layer

full of tiger worms.

Which by the way, if you get paranoid like I do

and think that your worm livestock will not have survived

because you forget to keep the scraps moist

or cause it freezes and snows

don't worry.

Two things, one; these babies are tough and

pretty much survive anything

(unlike other livestock type pets eg lambs who got very stressed

over large earthquakes and died)

two; you can buy more. 

There are people who kind of have tiger worm breeding programmes

and sell you a ice cream container full for ten bucks.

 

End result: priceless.

 

 

One of my perfect iceberg roses,

always fragrant and pleasing.

subversive

I'm not actually subversive,

but like an algal bloom

given the right environmental conditions

I spread, turn neon bright and blossom.

Having spent the weekend talking about political things,

not political philisophy as I would prefer

but plotting, which has it's own merits,

I feel inclined to reflect on,

maybe critique,

the lack of philsophical values so aptly displayed

by some over the weekend.

I'll say it straight,

 conservatives are the modern Pharisees.

Just putting it out there

but will explain.

The Pharisees were and always have been a sect of authority,

not of power.

They normalised whatever the ones in power dictated.

Never deviating from the party line.

They move from value to value,

adopting the ethics of those who lead.

They don't rock the boat

and move en masse grazing on what is most popular,

seldom raising their heads to see which direction they are being led.

In New Zealand the conservatives are currently in power.

And it's Pharisee style is best seen amongst the Party faithful.

They are just happy the Party they support is governing the country,

never mind that their 'right wing' Party is actually dead center,

if not left of centre.

But they don't know this

because one of the important things Pharisees need

is to blythly walk the path of rightousness.

So one of the projects I have on the go

is just having a wee think about what this means

for conservatives.

And how I can use this.

Anything is possible.

TBfree

Last week I was in Wellington speaking to the Animal Health Board board.

I know too many boards.

Their Board is made up of reps from around the country,

all farmers,

all passionate about getting rid of Bovine Tuberculosis.

They remember the old days when farmers were wiped out by TB.

Well the animals were wiped out

either by the disease or when they had to be killed

then the farmer was wiped out

with no stock.

Bovine TB is a big deal and

how the AHB deals with eradicating TB is also a big deal.

Nasty possums carry TB and 'kiss' cattle and

transfer TB to cattle.

To be fair to the possums

the dumb catlle also lick the dead possums

and catch it that way.

But to my point,

TBfree New Zealand have a youtube channel

here

Before you go there though,

if you are eating dinner

(shame on you for not focusing on what you are eating)

or if you have a squeamish tummy

you may not want to look at all the videos

but it is really interesting viewing.

Nat Com and Social Media

I have no idea why I gave social media caps there in the title.

It's been National Committee meeting again this past weekend.

I flew to Wellington from Nelson on Thursday evening

Over the Marlborough Sounds to the big city.

I swear I am allergic to cities.

Friday morning I walked from my hotel to the supermarket

my eyes started weeping,

my head started getting stuffy,

and I realised I am allergic to the city.

I realise this often.

As often as I forget it.

These are some of the National Committee members.

Spud is hiding behind the camera cause he is a sook.

Some of my favourite people are in this photo.

And some are not in it.

Ok so at Nat Com we discuss and build strategy for the

Young Farmer organisation.

This weekend we discussed and organised

a heaps of committees.

It was Young Farmers old school styles.

The important things to know about Nat Com are;

1. We have three meetings a year,
2. Regional Chairs and one Vice Chair from each Region attend - that's 14 people.
3. Nat Com is the engine room of the Young Farmers organisation.
4. Nat Com is currently lead by Nessie.
5. There's a fines session last thing on the last day.
6. There are guest speakers.
7. It's pretty hard work.
8. I made sure there is lots of food and the attendees make sure there is lots of beer.
9. And then they drink copious amounts of it.
10. There is seldom any beer left after Nat Com.
11. If for any reason relating to alcohol you are unable to function during a Nat Com meeting you have to pay your airfare and accommodation costs back,
12. This has happened only once.

This Nat Com was a really busy and successful one.

We have had a few duds in the past.

This one got a fair bit decided and confirmed.

Then we went out to dinner to Cafe Istanbul

where Scotty (forefront above) and Spud (is a photophobe)

had fish and chips instead of yummy Turkish food.

And beer was consumed.

On Sunday we had Tom Phillips come along and

talk to us about social media.

Tom is my best favourite blogger that I ever met in person.

Ok he is only the third real life blogger I've met in person.

It was a good interactive session and now!

And now!

We have a couple more Young Farmer members tweeting.

That's pretty darn exciting.

Sunday night I flew back to Nelson,

drove to Leeston,

fell into bed

then bounced out of bed at 6am,

went to work in Methven

and then drove up to Christchurch to fly to Wellington

that I'd only left less than 24 hours before.

Tomorrow I'll be telling the TBfree New Zealand Board

all about this social media malarky

and a fair bit about what NZYF has been up to

and what we spend their sponsorship money on.

Now I just have go to sleep then wake up nice and early to get that sorted.

iPhone

I'm back from leave.

Back to the rural world.

Seriously how many people consider going to a suburb a good holiday?

Am I weird?

Do I deserve to suffer this angst?

Who would swap this sunny back yard for this?

I guess I would, because I have.

It pains me.

It's Wellington in case you didn't recognise it.

relatives

One of the things about visiting places with your mother,

is that at some point that relative you haven't seen for 20 years,

but your mother has kept up with

will need to be visited.

Now this isn't something I particularly mind

now that I'm a little older

(emphasis mine).

These visits uncover a goldmine of gory information

current gossip and family myths.

On my mother's side, a wicked sense of humour prevails.

least I've been lead to believe this is case,

though have proof otherwise.

On my father's side it's a bit hit and miss.

This case is a hit, thank goodness.

My most recent visit uncovered a mammoth of gory details

from the minor, everyone knew that stuff like

my Grandma made her younger sister Ginge swap birth years so

Grandma could be younger than my Grandfather Dave.

A not so secret secret.

To the major.

This visit uncovered this doozy.

My father's cousin Sue was told when she was 19 and

about to marry her first husband

that the man she had grown up thinking was her father,

in fact wasn't.

In an age of Jeremy Kyle and Dr Phil that's pretty pedestrian.

But this is 54 years ago.

And the plot gets thicker.

20 years ago Sue got a call from an English genealogist

that started out by telling her she had been disinherited

but could she please provide documents proving who she was.

Hmmm interesting.

Now a days you'd be checking the caller ID

to see if this person was calling from Nigeria

but this was the real deal.

Sue's birth father was a Le Vie,

this is a super posh English family with linage back to the year 1066.

That's as far back as an English family can trace and

maintain it's pure Englishness.

I know funny considering Le Vie is French-ish.

Still not the gory stuff.

By this time Sue had found her father's family

and discovered a half-sister.

Aww nice.

The half-sister was from a third marriage.

Now before you think what a canny old man this father was,

he didn't marry until he was 30.

He lived with his mother until then.

His mother was good friends with my great Grandmother Winifred,

very good friends.

When his mother, oddly not called Mrs Le Vie, decided to travel overseas

(think steamships and months of travel - this was 1937)

she also decided that her boy needed to be married.

Now who would be better than her best-friend's daughter?

also 30 and unmarried.

So they did get married..... for four months.

Turned out birth father wasn't proficient in bed with ... ah ... females.

By the time Sue caught up with her birth father's family,

the father was dead.

Which in the scheme of things is not such a bad thing.

He did live well into his 80s.

And during his life had been a Scout Master.

Not to cast dispersion on Scouting but do you see where this is going?

Hmmm in our modern times,

there's a place for people like him and

it's called prison.

But to be fair, what a repressed, repressed, unfortunate and sad man.

Not excusing his fiddling in any way.

Meanwhile turns out when you catch up with relatives you also

find out how the cousins you aren't sure you've ever meet

are doing well in their marriages, parenthood and careers.

In our case this means for one cousin,

a successful and in demand career as a pole dancer.

Not as in Poland,

though she has gone international.

More power to her, I say and if I ever meet her,

I will no doubt be envious of her tummy muscles.

You can choose your friends,

not your family.

Gotta love them though.

tahunanui

The beach of my childhood is Tahunanui, just outside of Nelson.

 The place where I have been hiding out since Thursday.

I lie, as usual, I've been staying in Brightwater

at Jolly Hockeysticks Jo's mum's house.
Brightwater is near Nelson but isn't Nelson.

Jo and her mum have gone to Rarotonga for a week.

So I jumped on that one and asked if I could borrow

Pauline's, mother of Jo house.

Plus it's over Easter so extra quiet and super peaceful

in the sun

(until today, it's raining and I'm still in bed

but now have a bed headache.

Do you get those?

It's when you've stayed in bed too long playing on facebook,

not to be confused with a fb headache.

That, just is).

I love this image I caught on my new iPhone

(love it, wouldn't want to be without it, am almost completely fulfilled by it,

am considering proposing, to the iPhone that is).

I love walking though scrub tunnels with the promise of sunshine and surf.

Coming through the scrub tunnel out on to the beach.

Always, always makes me take a breath, followed by a sign of homecoming,

and a temptation to fall to me knees and kiss the sandy sand.

Thankfully this passes quickly, I'd inhale.

Finding a possie and taking a pew,

drinking in the sights, stopping for a minute to

prioitise unpacking, swimming, sunbathing, diving into a book,

taking a walk, swimming, sunbathing, swimming, sunbathing, sunbathing, sunbathing.

I like to think of Tahunanui as the beach of my childhood but the

reality is that, though I was born a stones throw from this beach,

we moved away when I was two.

I was pulled away to Blenheim just over the hill,

bludy big hill to be fair.

Blenheim has rivers, awesome rivers.

Rivers of fresh, flowing water.

Willow trees shading the banks.

It ain't Tahuna though.

The beach I spent my childhood summers on is Waihi Beach.

It's a good east coast beach in the Bay of Plenty.

(that means white sand in NZ, west coast beaches are black sand)

lengthy, endless sand and

enough surf to give you a tumble but not enough to drown you.

Considerably less glamous and peaceful than Tahunanui.

Regardless of which summer, there was always a beach

and usually a white sand beach,

Mags's preferrence.

Is this not the perfect beach?

The water is warm and laps at your feet.

The sand is light and white with silica and

compact, not soggy, easy to walk on near the sea.

The air is filled with the sounds of waves and fun.

The people are everywhere but

as it works on beaches, nowhere near you.

I've taken a couple of American friends to this beach.

Friends from land locked states like Utah.

They have no idea what you do at a beach.

That makes me want to cry.

It's totally foreign place for them.

I remember years ago arriving at another beach not far from Tahunanui called Rabbit Island

with my sister Pippapotamus

and the only-to-be-mentioned-when-I'm-drunk* Bilious.

Me and Pippapotamus jumped out of the car,

raced over the sand dunes and promptly did what we have done all our lives

and wrapped a towel around us,

stripped off underneath

and pulled on our togs**.

Never, in all our days would we have thought this was strange behaviour.

Where else do you get changed when the beach is miles from any amenities?

Besides the beach is for half naked people

(unless you are my grandfather Dave,

who wore a suit at all times, even to the beach)

But for Bilious it was all too much.

all too much this sheltered Mormon as they come, Utah boy.

He fled back to the car to get changed,

least that's where I think he went.

PLEASE NOTE: ALL IMAGES IN THIS POST ARE OF TAHUNANUI BEACH - sorry for the caps, I realised I hadn't been very specific in labeling the photos and am too lazy to go back to rewrite this post.

* I'm Mormon so never, never drink anything that would make me drunk - it's been years since I imbibed.  I don't miss the drinking and the things I did under the influence but sometimes I reminisce about a long, cold gin and lemonade or khalua and milk, or maybe a eye watering whiskey.  The Bilious story can wait for another day when I really do run out of things to post about.  That and I feel the need to expose every last fibre of my being to the oxymoronic world of the public/anonymous world of the bloggersphere.

** Togs = swimsuit.

not my usual day

Yesterday I flew to Hawkes Bay.

Ah the Hawkes Bay,

beautiful Hawkes Bay.

Ah not so much last night.

Squally rain, heavy rain, torrential rain.

But our Rural Business Network meeting went well.

Take a look at this site OBO very cool.

Then this morning, extremely early,

while it was still dark and still rainy.

I got on yet another plane this time to Auckland.

Ah Auckland the land where summer made a late appearance.

And the land where TV studios are.

I parked at TVNZ to be interviewed on Straight Talk

on channel Country 99 by Karen McCarthy.

Yup it was the Green Room, hair and make up, microphone up your shirt,

bright lights and ackshun!

Good thing there was hair and make up

cause I got dressed in the dark

but had an interesting conversation about

not washing your hair very often.

Since I cut mine off I only wash it once a week,

It was really fun sitting there having a yarn about ag careers

and farm ownership and adverse weather

with Karen and fellow guest

Phil Journeaux newly of AgFirst Farm Consultants,

recently of MAF.

Phil and I have a million people in common so we chatted away.

Plus the 1 degree of locational separation worked for us all.

Phil lives in Hamilton and Karen and I went to school there.

And Karen lived in Leeston when she had her first reporter job.

Such a small world.

Anyway next week when the interview is online I'll post the link

and you can see me in all my walking, talking glory.

Young Farmers

rocking the A&P Show,

as per usual.

It's pretty fearce competition at the old A&P Shows

among the Young Farmers

when there is Regional Competitions up for grabs.

Reuben being very serious about the sheep judging.

He won so it was worth it.

I like that the boys dressed appropriately for the judging.

There are rules about this.
Stock judging is very serious stuff.

This girl was there for the breed showing.

She's way too good to be thrown into the stock judging.

The showing people are very into winning

mostly because it helps their stud business.

The more red ribbions they win the better it looks for the quality of their stock.

I bet this is the only thing this farmer scrubs down.

She sat in her poop.

That's what cows do really.

She gave him a kick for his troubles.

Some people paint their animals up,

this usually is rubbing off by the end of the day

and the animals look like some kid has drawn outside of the lines.

Huge bulls, huge.

They can be a bit nudgy as they walk.

Then theres the fencing comp.
That's building a fence.

I've never seen a fencing fight in my life but

I have seen plenty of fencing competitions.

This one is the Tasman Region comp

and the winning pair goes to the National Final.

It's all on in the sun.

Ok I admit I know not much about fencing

but I bet I know more than you do

but maybe not as much as Charlotte does.

Charlotte and Nigel the judge and Prez of FCANZ

had a bit of a chat about the criteria for judging the lines.

They talked about this

and this

  and knots

 and gates

I know you are probably kicking yourself for missing this

two hour fencing competition

but don't worry we have eight of them a year

all around the country.

Next one is the National Final at Invermay near Dunedin

on Thursday May 24th.

Let me know if you want to join us.

The judges moved in.

Dave, in the black there was the organiser of this comp.

Nigel in the blue runs all of the comps

from afar usually cause he is always off putting really hard fences up

in random places with no cellphone coverage.

Then the winners and organisers get to go in the

Grand Parade around the arena.

Lisa, Reuben, Sarah and Lucy carried the flag for Young Farmers.

Ripper day it was.

Oxford A&P

On Saturday I meandered along to the Oxford A&P Show.

It was a bit of an epic drive

cause I did my usual thing of leaving without looking at a map

then realising there must be a quicker way.

There was.

Mags came along to sit in the ute for most of the day.

I met up with Charlotte and had a delightfully, relaxing day walking

around and round the Show.

What's an A&P Show? I hear you ask.

Why its the local Agricultural and Pastoral show

when the rural community comes together
to see men dressed in skirts
and kids in hats

show off their wares, sand gardens, floral displays,

hand crafts, stock, fleeces and skills.

 Oh and all the key ingredients for any Show are things like these.

Heaven knows how kids can ride those things at 10am in the morning.

Me, my breakfast would be all over the crowd.
They had organsied special tractor parking.
I bet the guy with the blue tractor was relieved when he parked up.
His will be easy to spot when he comes back,
too bad for the other guys with the red tractors.
Actually funny story,
Charlotte and I got sconed with a handful of lollies
while we were having a sit down in the shade of a portable drafting gate.
The flipping lollie scramble guys drove past and
randomly threw a handful of hard lollies at us.
A candy drive by it was.

Clown shows.

Even better not scary clowns,

nice mummy and daughter clowns who give things away.

Remember these clowns.

They are cool clowns, fun clowns and

the carnie lady barking out calling over the wee kiddies.

She was little scary in a pedophile in a park kind of way

luring little kiddies over to her to play her games.

Why are carnie people scary?

Must be that old transient, temporary people thing.

Maybe they need a Big Fat Gypsy Wedding programme.

Doubt they'd go for massive wedding dresses though.
Bet people check their wells after the carnies have been through.

The mandatory Highland Pipe Band

who, lovely Charlotte reckoned only knew one tune.

This is entirely possible

though I wouldn't argue the point with that wee woman in the front there.

Doesn't she look like a Mike Myers character?



The fundraising Lions full fat, fried food cart

with old men who are on a customer service lark for the day.

Making money to give back to their community.

Charlotte, who is based in Christchurch while on her senior mission

was a bit sus about eating a sausage

(it's a Grapes of Wrath thing,
I wonder if the sausage industry can post humerously sue Steinbeck
like the US cattle industry sued Oprah?).

We got really meaty snags from the

Oxford Rugby Club BBQ with coleslaw and fried onions

all on fresh white bread,

just as sausages at Shows need to be -

greasy, piping hot and scoffable.

I caught up with Charlotte at the wood chopping competitions.

Perfect place to have as a meeting point.

Plenty of action, heat after to heat of choppingness.

The old guys had the upper hand.

Like most things, it's all about the forward planning
rather than the force fo the chop.

Shearing is another prefect meeting place.

By the middle of the day it's a tad hot

and the shearing competition at Oxford is in a shady shed with seating.

Plus this guy has quite nice arms for an old fulla.
Viewing bonus.

This was the last shearing comp before the season ended.

The end of the season just means all the young guys are off overseas.

NZ shearers go all over the world and dazzle the locals with their quick, speedy,

thoroughly efficiently wool removal.

I love shearing, watching that is.

I love the smell of wool.

I love sheepies,

not so much nudie sheepies though.

Woolly ones are the best.

Charlotte and I covered off quite a few topic areas of our lives

in that shed watching the rousies and shearers.

And whats an A&P Show without Young Farmers?
Nothing, I tell you nothing.