Not a wheelie bin, not a cat, but nearly

I am an eternal optimist and still have a scout around the paddock in the hope that Bar-Os has managed to right himself and is back to normal in the bum department. I do find the odd dropping or two and thought I'd spotted one in the field shelter. As I went with bucket and trowel to scoop up said dropping, I was somewhat startled by the fact that it moved! Upon closer inspection, said dropping was in fact a rather large hedgehog. As it was time to take Bar-Os home for the evening, I left the hedgehog where I'd found him, knowing that Bar-Os wouldn't accidentally tread on him.

The next day I found the same large hedgehog upside down in the hay partition of the field shelter and told Barman that it must have been poorly and had obviously crawled into the field shelter to die. Barman set about digging a hole in the paddock to bury the poor thing. He scooped up the corpse and put it next to the place where he was digging. Having now dug a decent sized, deep hole in which to place the hedgehog, Barman scooped the hedgehog onto the shovel, ready for the burial. Hedgehog wriggled his toes!

It would appear that the hedgehog had tried to climb onto a bale of hay, fell over backwards, got stuck and played dead when it heard us coming.

Nearly!

Seemed like a good idea...

Best friend is getting married next week. The wedding has been organised on a shoe-string, so BF has set about being 'creative'. All the guests have to wear fancy dress, the theme being Hollywood movies. So far there are several Marilyn Monroe's, a Clint Eastwood, a Mary Poppins and muggins here is thinking of being Uma Thurman as she appeared in Pulp Fiction, with Barman as Vincent Vega/John Travolta.

It gets worse...

BF decided that the ladies are to do a dance routine. Ten of her favourite songs (all cheesy). I've just about cracked the first bit, but with nine left to master I'm in a panic, not least because my knees are creaking and my back aches:-) The Thriller section looks cool, but things go downhill fast and the Armand Van Helden section looks like something out of a very low budget porno. And as for the Footloose bit, it's a pitiful sight.

On a different note, I didn't hear back from the hoteliers regarding the fireworks, so following a very noisy firework display on Saturday night, I got in touch with Environmental Health. My previous dealings with the 'back of beyond' local authority haven't been at all worthwhile, so I fully expected a battle. I was pleasantly surprised! Having explained that Bar-Os has been poorly on several occasions and that the fireworks are but a stone's throw away from his stable and are terrifying him, the lady on the end of the phone said that a letter would be sent to the hotel forthwith and if things haven't improved in 28 days, I should get back in touch with the reference number provided and they will take matters further. I'm not holding my breath, but there's a glimmer of hope.

My parents haven't been so lucky with the local authority. Following a long running saga with the LA and a neighbour, over a previously unauthorised change of use of agricultural land to garden, the LA have granted retrospective planning consent, despite the neighbour's garden extension contravening much, if not all, of the region's policy on garden extensions. It looks as though the matter should have gone before the Planning Committee, but it didn't and was granted under delegated Planning Officer powers. As far as I know, the only avenue open to my parents is Judicial Review, and they just don't want the hassle and expense involved in the JR process. How frustrated I feel. Having spent 8 years studying law, there's nothing much I can do to help them. And even more annoying is the fact that some snotty woman at the LA wrote and told my parents that my carefully drafted letter was incorrect and Halsbury's Laws definition of 'agricultural land' was wrong.

Last Sunday I took Bar-Os on another trespassing expedition across a particularly large stubble field, got back home early evening, washed him down and sat in the garden supping coffee. Bar-Os was busy 'mowing' the garden (I know, but it's quite normal in the country, honest), when I saw a plume of thick, jet black smoke just over the hotel. There is a God thought I, then realised that the smoke was coming from further away, from the direction of my paddock! Barman went to investigate, only to find the Fire Brigade, many cars and several locals in situ. The locals had gone to rescue Bar-Os, bless em, not realising that he was munching away on my lawn (if you can call it that!), oblivious to all the fuss.

The owner of the field next to mine had decided to set fire to a couple of caravans which they used to use for storage. Following an early morning fright, when neighbour discovered half a dozen hungover teenagers squatting in one of the caravans, it was decided that the best thing to do was to get rid of them (the caravans that is:-)). Tell you what, looking at the large blackened area of grass where the fire took place, I reckon my neighbours got more than they bargained for when they struck the match.

Fraudulent and deaf, but chuffed!

Well, what can I say! Winner of the Best Design Blawggie, yay! Of course the brilliance and accolade is all mine, mine, mine Andro's, who gave Barmaid a much needed face lift earlier this year. Ta Andro, any chance you can also fix it for me to get a pupillage? Oh well, it was worth asking anyway:-)

Been a bit busy this week and haven't seen much news. Barman was talking to me and said "Have you heard the news about that vicar who's gonna burn a thousand grans this weekend?"

"No" said I, wondering where a vicar would find a thousand grans at such short notice; particularly ones willing to be burnt. It was only when I was listening to the radio earlier today that I realised I'd mis-heard Barman.

Thanks to everyone who voted for my blog, it's cheered me up no end. Have a good weekend.

I don't very think so!

I'm busy over the next few weeks and will be working some funny hours, which has led to a dilemma. Big Boy's Bum. As you may have read in my previous posts, Bar-Os has partial paralysis of his rear end, so needs help in that department - help several times a day as it happens, because horses go about 8 - 12 times a day. Barman, who is secretly looking for a scive off work, has volunteered to 'do' Big Boy's Bum.

Yesterday got off to a poor start and I wasn't quite sure whether Barman was going to faint or not, and that was before we'd even got started! So today he decided to have another go.

Some of my favourite books are the James Herrriot vet stories, one of them is called If Only They Could Talk. Well let me tell you, the look on Bar-Os' face as Barman approached with sleeve rolled up, orange gloved and gelled up to the elbow, said it all -'I don't very think so buster'. There was much huffing and puffing on Barman's part, lots of soothing words from me (to Bar-Os of course:-)) and very little progress! Eventually I took over the reins, so to speak, more out of pity than anything else. I have a funny feeling that I won't be hanging up the lubrication gel just yet. Men eh!

In accordance with the vets advice, I have continued riding Bar-Os and he's in fine form, so much so that I mis-laid the brakes the other day. The fields are mostly clear of crops now and some of them haven't been ploughed yet, so I have been busy trespassing on the stubble fields and exploring new locations. A bit of new territory always gives Bar-Os a spring in his step and it's nice to see him enjoying himself. The faster exercise seems to help in the bum department too, as he's managing to go to the loo himself a few times a day.

So, that's enough about rectums! I haven't got a pupillage yet, but have a couple of applications outstanding. One is provincial and local, the other in London, both are entirely different to one another, but each look interesting. Having gotten through the Situational Judgement Test with the GLS, I went onto fail the following psychometric test thingy. It's obviously not my thing, as I failed the same type of test last year. I feel very thick!

I now have to sort out an email (which I've been meaning to do all week) to the hotel at the back of my house. The hotel featured on one of those trouble-shooting programmes last year and is owned by a pair of clueless, absentee, Americans. Having spent over £6m on the place, it stands mostly empty. The health spa is unfinished, the restaurant is unfinished, the kitchen is no larger than a decent domestic one, yet is meant to be able to cater for hundreds? The only activities which take place are weddings and parties, which are run by outside caterers and which brings me to the email. In their wisdom, the hoteliers offer firework displays, the 'industrial' ones that are loud, very loud, and are right at the back of Bar-Os' stable. Poor lad is terrified every weekend, refuses to eat or drink and then gets colic. I've had 2 weekend vet visits due to the said fireworks and am just about fed up with it all, not least the hefty bills that accompany the vet visits. So, I'm getting myself psyched up to rattle off a snotty letter and just hope that something will be done about it. A few other villagers with pets are also complaining, so I'm not alone in my plight, but it's very annoying that people can be so thoughtless about these things and have to be told time and again... I did stand and watch some Chinese lanterns going over, from the hotel, a few weeks back when the ground was dry and full of crops. I can't imagine that the local farmers will take lightly to those and I did notice one or two lanterns burning up and falling into the nearby fields. I can see an opening here, a Chinese lantern and firework litigation specialist, mm, bet there aren't many of those around!

Anyway, that's enough moaning from me, I'm going to clean the house have a kip and go for a hack later. What a gorgeous day:-)

The Pupillage Fairy and (non) Flying Pigs

As mentioned in my previous post, Bar-Os is poorly. His digestive system isn't working as well as it should and he's had a few bouts of mild colic. He's not really one to suffer in silence and stamps his feet if he needs 'the slave' (me) to attend - this has meant that I've had quite a few disturbed nights. On Wednesday night, I awoke at 1am to hear him stamping, did a quick check and went back to bed. At 4 am he was stamping his feet again, so I went back out, only to find that he was staring out of his window looking quite worried. I assumed that a local cat had startled him and thought nothing more of it. I gave him a jam butty laced with 'bute' pain-killer just in case he had a mild colic and crawled back to bed.

The next evening I was very tired. I thought I heard squealing at the back of Bar-Os' stable, but put it down to tiredness and an over active imagination on my part. On Friday, I went to get Bar-Os in from the paddock and lo and behold, there were 2 pigs munching away on a neighbours lawn. There was no-one else in sight and the pigs were making their way towards the road, so I decided to do the decent thing and try to get them to safety. Mmm, it would appear that pigs have a mind of their own and don't take lightly to being ushered around. Cars were passing by and the occupants were looking both bewildered and amused as I smiled sheepishly and shrugged my shoulders at the mayhem the porkies were causing. One driver scowled meanly at me and pursed his lips. "It's not my bloody fault; they're not mine" I said. Eventually the piggies made their way up a drive towards a crab apple tree, where they happily munched their way through the windfalls, pausing only to have a scrap amongst themselves over the spoils on offer. To be honest, I was quite relieved to discover that I wasn't going mad when I thought I'd heard squealing, and that the pigs had been going awol for several days on the trot (or should that be trotter). Poor Bar-Os must have woken from his slumber to see piggies parading past his stable and had stamped his feet for the slave to make them go away.

To date, I haven't managed to get a pupillage, but have sent off a few non-olpas applications; one to a chambers where I've recently done a mini-pupillage - time will tell whether they liked me or not. I have also gotten through to a second round on-line process for another pupillage and did an on-line test earlier today. Goodness me, 6 years of LLB, 2 years of BVC, and we still have to do tests to see if we are really fik or not. I'm entered for the 2012 Olympic Games for the Jumping Through Hoops competition. I must admit that when I finished BVC I was sick of the sight of law, but my interest in it has re-emerged and I really do want a pupillage; along with several thousand others unfortunately!

Day job is busy, which is just as well, as I seem to be keeping the vet in the style to which he has become accustomed. No matter how well I try to plan my finances, it always seems to be the case that the unexpected empties my bank account. Oh well, the weather has been lovely and I've much to be grateful for.

Sad Times

Oh well, I might as well tell you - Bar-Os is very ill.

He hasn't been 'right' for some time and I've made excuses not to ride him because I just felt that there was something that I couldn't quite put my finger on. Family members told me that I was worrying over nothing - his coat was shiny, his eyes bright, good appetite, no weight loss, no obvious signs of pain... But he was a little too well behaved for my liking, like he couldn't be quite bothered to be his usual cheeky self. Of course the warm weather seemed a likely cause of his laid back attitude and the flies have been awful this year...

He was well behaved with the farrier and there was no sign of the usual (effortless on Bar-Os' part) tug of war with the arrogant apprentice, who somehow thinks he's stronger than a horses back leg!

Anyway, following his breakfast last Thursday he went down with colic. I called the vet out and she tentatively diagnosed Cauda Equina Syndrome - it was something that she'd read about in the text books, but had never seen for herself. 2 more vets looked him over and it is more or less confirmed that he has CES. The second vet said that he'd seen 2 cases during his many years in practice, both fatal. The third vet seemed slightly more optimistic, but by no means certain that it won't get worse. The disease seems to often be caused by some other illness or infection and it kinda kicks in as an aftershock - it's a bit like M.E. I suppose, but causes paralysis of the 'rear end', along with lethargy. Spinal injury can also cause CES, but he's had no tumbles and the vet couldn't find any sore spots along his back. His blood count shows no raised white cell count, but he has a mild anaemia.

At the moment the paralysis hasn't spread to his back legs, but he has a limp tail, a weak bladder and can't pooh by himself (I have a plentiful supply of shoulder length disposable gloves and lubrication gel - I'll leave you to guess the rest). In order to save his dignity, we have told all of his equine friends that as a (putative) barrister's horse, he's far too posh to push.

Anyways, I'm sorry that this post couldn't be more entertaining, but it feels quite cathartic to share the worry.

The Fly and Other Annoying Things

Today I have paperwork to catch up on, so I'm chained to the desk, which is all very well except a fly keeps buzzing around my face and landing on me. Grrrrrrrrrr.

Bar-Os had company last night, a racing pigeon nestled on his window sill and remained there for several hours resting. The two seemed to get along just fine. Barman decided that pigeon needed a drink, so took it a BUCKET of water, accompanied by a massive bowl full of wild bird seed. Pigeon glared at Barman and ignored his hospitality.

BVC seems ages ago. Most of what I learnt is forgotten. I thought this was an age thing, but all of my group share the same amnesia and even the most simple procedural matters are a mystery (Part Thirtywhat?).

As for pupillage, well, after a promising start, matters have taken a nose-dive and I am currently seeking Cilla's help for the Bar, Blind Date Competition:

"No, the fact that you can wheelbarrow 39 horse droppings across the paddock to the muck heap without fainting once will NOT impress Chambers, and will NOT show that you have the necessary drive and determination to succeed at the Bar".

Back to the drawing board on that bit of the form then?

"No, the fact that you won at poker and made Barman stand on the wall outside your house singing All Things Bright and Beautiful at FULL BLAST will NOT demonstrate your killer negotiation skills"

Back to the drawing board on that bit of the form then? (It was really funny though).

"No, no, no, NO, the fact that you are known to use double or even treble expletives, to express emotion does NOT demonstrate exceptional advocacy skills".

Back to the *$^£@?&!  %&*!!* drawing board on that bit of the form then?

On the plus side, my day-job is looking very busy for August through to October, which is just as well seeing as BVC drained my finances.

On a slightly dodgy note, I have taken somehow to looking at the local(ish) property auction listings and have somehow been formulating figures as to:

a) how I can afford to buy a property at auction, to do-up, when I'm skint;

b) how I can manage to turn a profit on said property when the market is well and truly *&%$£!.

p.s. Don't tell Barman about the last bit, he'll have a hissy fit.

p.p.s. Don't tell bank or anyone about the last bit, they'll have a hissy fit.

ttfn

Twas the night before...

...Christmas BVC results, and all through the house,
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse (well, except for Barman who's watching the footy).
The lucky mascots were hung by the pc with care,
In hope that the pupillage fairy would soon be there.

Bar-Os was nestled all snug in his bed,
Whilst visions of being a 'barrister's ors' danced in his head.
And Barmaid in her kerchief and Barman in his cap (well, we are yokels),
Had just settled down for a Summertime nap.

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
Barmaid sprang from her bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window, she flew like a flash,
Tore open the IKEA curtains and threw up the sash.

The moon on the breast of the new fallen dew,
Gave a lustre like diamonds, such a beautiful hue.
When, what to her wondering eyes should appear,
Not the pupillage fairy, but hope, consternation, anticipation and fear.

There it was gone

That’s it then. I don’t think it’s quite sunk in yet.

Three lots of results to wait for – one in June, two in July.

After the Advanced Crime exam, I had a walk up to Ede and Ravenscroft and looked in the window. I will need to buy a shirt and bands for Call, but I’m not going to tempt fate and purchase them just yet. No harm in looking though.

 

The emotions were running a little high last week and on the train back home best friend rang and I’m ashamed to say that I sobbed. Not really sure why, but probably something to do with being tired. It was very embarrassing and I sat dabbing away tears and pretending to sneeze so that it looked like I had hay fever – I don’t think anyone on the crowded 5.30 was fooled!

Best wishes to everyone who has finished, or is about to finish BVC.

 

I wonder if we'll get any pupillage interviews?

7 days and counting

I can't quite believe it. Just one more week and that's it! I have a busy week ahead of me preparing for the Advanced Criminal Litigation exam.

There is a pot of paint at the ready for next week, when I might just get around to painting the front door, which was sanded down last Autumn, but somehow never got finished. I hope that front doors don't have feelings, as every time I look at it I mutter "bloody mess". I'm sure if front door could speak, it would utter something quite similar in return:-)

There's also a stack of folders in the corner of the dining room that need sorting out - BVC makes for a lot of paperwork. I think a bigger bookcase is required.

Details for Call arrived a few days ago, so I have to sort out gown hire etc. I must also get around to doing some more dining!

I took Bar-Os out for a ride today. When I brought him in from the paddock he had a big insect bite on his belly, so I couldn't put the saddle on him because the girth would have rubbed against the bite. I had to ride bareback and by the time I'd finished, my legs ached so much that I struggled to dismount. I think the Spring grass has expanded his waistline a tad! Either that or I'm getting old!

Good luck to everyone on their final push towards the finishing line. I think we all deserve a pat on the back, or perhaps some new shoes.