- involved drafting the light ewes out of 2ths this morning - which meant a lot of swearing by the Boss. Me - I was having a little chuckle at the back of the yards, as the ewes went 3 ways off the drafting race. Going 3 ways was what was supposed to happen, but leaping over the drafting gates any one of the 3 ways WAS NOT. They are full of beans. Butter wouldn't melt in their mouths during the judging though. A dinner tonight will reveal the winners, but won't hold my breath. 11 farms in, all cross bred sheep, and ours will probably be the smallest.
And waiting to here if "wee Rory" has safely made it to New Plymouth, he's going into a storm, but at least it wouldn't have been too bad as he went across Cook Strait on the ferry.
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