44. Bottle feed a lamb
With it being March, the opportunity to bottle-feed a lamb was readily available to me, as of course – it is lambing season! I’m guessing it will be slightly harder in November, so if you want to give it a go soon, keep reading!
Mother’s Day was fast approaching, and me being me, I left everything to the last minute (the more you get to know me the more you’ll get to know this..) I wanted to do something a bit different to what seems like the norm on M/D and as I was driving to work one morning, it hit me like a big furry ball sack in the face – I’LL TAKE HER TO THE FARM! I was so impressed with my idea I was smug the whole way to the office *enter smug face emoji* – you know the one.
After drafting the perfect text inviting Big Linz on a magical farm adventure, I clicked send and hoped for the best. ‘I’d love to’ the reply pinged. Green light. Sunday soon arrived and we were pon route to West Lodge Rural Centre in Desborough (I’ll link everything at the bottom). After surviving the car journey with the old dear – she’s a fan of braking at the last minute and ‘accidentally’ sitting in third gear whist driving 65mph – we were at our destination. Mother, you could tell, was totally embarrassed. The average age of humans in the establishment was probably about six. Nevertheless we were here, and we had a task to complete.
We made our way to the ‘demo barn’ where we were ushered to a collection of small benches, it was here, that I fell in love. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the smallest, fluffiest little creature bounding towards me, my heart was literally imploding! Of course this love affair was short lived, the four legged bleeting machine was in fact running past me, to the farmer who was holding the bottle of milk. After elbowing many children out of the way, it was now my turn to hold the bottle and show everyone what I was made of. I took a deep breath, aimed the bottle towards the lamb that rejected me and low and behold, the feeding began. Oh it was a glorious moment, but the thing they don’t tell you is that the lambs pull so hard you look like one of those workmen on the streets of NYC drilling into the floor. The encounter was short but sweet, lasting I would say about five minutes before the snottiest child in the whole of the land demanded a go.
After we’d bottle fed our little friend, I took Mother Dearest to see some snoring pigs (bears such a resemblance to me when I’m asleep) and then forced her to milk a fake cow.
She’d been tortured enough by this point, so obviously I had to make it up to her and take her for sushi. She had the last laugh in the end, when I spent the following two days in bed (or should I say with my head down the toilet) with food poisoning. Classic.
Until next time punks!