Mrs Down's Diary July 1 2009

It is immensely satisfying to see a clamp bulging with cut grass for the winter feed.

Indeed, because of the delays and the extra rainfall for the grass meadows, it has meant even more silage for the herd than usual.

So, if the turn out next Spring is delayed because of bad weather, we've got plenty of silage for the herd to go out. Very comforting.

Just like looking into a well stocked larder or freezer. Or as one visitor said when they saw my pantry; "Is that a shop you've got in there". I think I must have squirrels somewhere back in my ancestry.

The day after was spent compressing the grass even harder in the clamp and then sealing the silage in and weighting down the plastic wrap, Visqueen, with big bales of straw.

Those bales are nearly as useful as baler band. When the ducks were in the yard they made an instant wall to protect them from drafts, they build chicanes to walk cattle through to the trailer, block off entrances or create a ladder to climb up for roof repairs. Endless.

The first time we really appreciated their versatility was when foot and mouth was threatened.

At that time we did not have any gates on the farmyard entrances, but in less than an hour we were barricaded in, and more importantly, barricaded out unwanted callers.

The forecasters are promising a high for the rest of the week, but as John has gone over the silage fields spinning on fertilizer, rain would not hurt to boost the regrowth of the grass.

The cattle are beginning to get short of grass and these two fields will do them nicely for a fresh bite.

To celebrate the bumper silage crop, and because the day had been too busy to cook a proper lunch, we went out for a pub meal that night.

It's an old fashioned place we like to go to but the food is great.

There has recently been a tendency however to twee the place up and create ambience with candles placed in every nook and cranny, in the centre of tables, in sconces on the wall and chandeliers from the ceiling.

Even in the midst of summer, they have log fires burning.

So when we first smelt smoke and a slightly singed aroma, we knew it wasn't our food, but credited it immediately to the log fire.

But the smell increased, and was that a scent of grilled meat?

It sure was. A man in the group at the next table had leant back in his seat, amplified a point of conversation and failed to notice his proximity to an artistic grouping of candles behind him.

Thinking quickly one of his friends flung a jug of water over him. Or behind him to be exact.

The scorched shirt was doused, his back soothed, and the candles and his conversation extinguished.