A farmer's wife shares her humorous look at life

Jessica is fascinated by the variety of body signals used by the buyers clustered round the main ring, to indicate to the auctioneer that they are in the bidding.

"Mamma he's using his thumb" she would whisper as an apparently disinterested buyer twitched his thumb to raise the price for a clean cow. "Mamma he's winking and he's nodding" she informed me in dramatic whispers.

Luckily perched as we were on the top row of benches in the auditorium that makes up a sale ring, no-one could hear her over the mooing cattle and auctioneers patter.

I enjoyed the nifty movements of the man in with the bulls. Not all of the bulls were going to amble docilely around whilst their fate and price was sealed.

Some were determined to have a go at that fellow who was giving them a swift prod to keep moving. Some of them nearly had him as well, much to Jessica's delight.

Lunch at the market is an undiscovered foodie's delight. Yesterday's roasts were sirloin of beef and pork loin. The crackling heavenly.

A nod to those bulging rural waistlines is the introduction of a salad bar. So to the pile of carved beef, roast potatoes and Yorkshire pudding, a side plate of lettuce, tomatoes and cucumbers creates an eclectic guilt free meal.

"Yes I had salad for lunch dear. What are we eating tonight?"

At home the poultry are feasting on the piles of scattered corn in the yard from the barley harvest. John has been filling the bins where the grain is stored over winter for the cattle.

He backs a trailer of corn up to an old bath, raises the trailer to a steep gradient then opens a small tailgate to let the corn trickle out into an old bath. From there an augur takes the corn up into the bins.

Jess is forbidden to approach the whole operation. The missing end of one of John's fingers testimony to the inherent dangers of such an operation.

As a little boy he investigated too closely when an augur appeared to stop running. Clogged corn removed, the augur ran again but taking the top part of his finger with it.

Meanwhile five of the mystery duck eggs from the Castle of Mey have hatched. We think they are silver appleyards. Royal silver appleyards of course.

As yet they have not been released to reign over the rest of the hoi polloi in the farmyard but from the way they deport themselves in their heated run I think they are already aware of their distinguished lineage.

Millie, our Jack Russell puppy will however have no truck with deference. She'll already chase anything feathered.

I see trouble ahead.