Which side is your bread buttered

Rich-Fruit-Cake-hero-4706

 

It’s amazing how rapidly moral principle can be overcome with simple greed. In a morning I go to feed sheep. I drive into the field on a quad bike towing a trailer and accompanied by Sal. Sal, as a border collie, has the silhouette of a small wolf and dentition any of the Canidae would be happy with. If sheep have in instinctive photofit of the apex predator to beware of, it’s got Sal’s paw prints all over it.

So the first time I do this we see sheep moving off at speed surrounded by their lambs. The second time I do it, some of the smarter ones have realised what I’m there for. By the end of the week they’ll tread Sal (and me) underfoot to get to the feed first.

It’s the same with the lambs. When you drive into the field, there’ll be a ewe grazing quietly. She’ll look up and bleat and her lambs will slowly disengage themselves from whatever they’re doing and make their way to join her. All except for the lambs of Number 39.

Number 39 had triplets. Now normally we take one lamb off and give it to a ewe who just had a single. This is because a ewe only has two teats, and even without this issue, frankly struggles to produce enough milk to feed three lambs. In the case of Number 39 there was a run of triplets and she was the one giving the most milk so she was left with hers.

So whereas other lambs wander off to do strange and interesting things, Number 39’s lambs stick with her, so they’re first at the teat should they feel a tad peckish.

Mind you it’s not something that is limited to sheep. My late mother and her two younger sisters would be invited to parties (we’re talking before the war here.) And hostesses were always touched and delighted by the way the two younger sisters wanted to sit next to their big sister. This was always pointed out as a charming example of sisterly love.

In reality the reason was that my mother never liked marzipan or almond paste. So whenever we had fruitcake with icing on it, she (even in her seventies) would quietly slip her icing and marzipan to her neighbour. Her two little sisters were just making damned sure that when that happened, they were going to be the recipients.

Advertisements

Tagged: , , , ,

11 thoughts on “Which side is your bread buttered

  1. anisioluiz2008 April 24, 2017 at 9:30 am Reply

    Reblogged this on O LADO ESCURO DA LUA.

  2. Alicia Butcher Ehrhardt April 24, 2017 at 2:16 pm Reply

    I used to sit near husband for the same reason. I have a sweet tooth, he doesn’t like really sweet things, so would slip the icing off his chocolate cake. Me, I’d rather have JUST icing.

    Neither of us has done this for a while, as our prudent diets don’t allow much cake, but I can go back there any time I want – and it tastes just as good.

    • jwebster2 April 24, 2017 at 3:05 pm Reply

      It seems to be a common phenomena 🙂

      • Alicia Butcher Ehrhardt April 24, 2017 at 4:03 pm

        Are you calling me common? I am SPECIAL. Hehe.

      • jwebster2 April 24, 2017 at 4:10 pm

        we’re all special 🙂
        It’s what we have in common 😉

  3. Kate McClelland April 26, 2017 at 8:30 pm Reply

    Reblogged this on Kate McClelland and commented:
    Hahahaha I’m with your Mum I don’t like icing or marzipan either. I peel it off and hand it to a willing victim :0)

    • jwebster2 April 26, 2017 at 9:47 pm Reply

      My mother never found a shortage of willing victims 🙂

  4. davidprosser April 26, 2017 at 9:48 pm Reply

    I’m a willing victim Kate….just sayin’.
    Hugs

    • jwebster2 April 27, 2017 at 5:21 am Reply

      Seems as fair an offer as you’re likely to get Kate 😉

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: