After telling George I wanted all the cows moved (we were up to 110!)

from ‘the other side’ to this, he turned up on Monday with his trusty
steed and set to work mustering them out of the scrub, she oaks and
river.  When I came back from my run and swim on a steamy Monday
morning, George had them all yarded bar 7 or 8 who had eluded his
round-up and I was pleased to see the back of the dry and pregnant
heifers who had significantly swelled the stock.  George has been
nagging me for months about riding my two and asked me ‘can I ride’
on numerous occasions – his look and demeanour always telling me
(when I say ‘a bit’) that he, and he alone, will be the judge of
that.  So on that day he just handed me the stringy reins of his
stock horse and grunted ‘go on, get on’.  So, despite the fact that I
was wringing wet and in my running shorts I hoisted myself into the
stock saddle and found out just how light and easy and impeccably
trained that horse is.  When I got off, he criticised my mounting
technique (apparently it is different for a stock saddle) but with a
sly smile gave me my first farming gold medal – ‘very good’!!

Having seen that I was happy to go swimming now that the weather is
warmer, George sent me across to find the wire so he could re-string
the block that got washed away in the big flood.  Very refreshing!
Much easier than in mid-winter – I definitely need a boat!  Even
George rolled up his trousers and I was treated to the sight of his
skinny, lily-white ankles – I don’t think they’ve seen the sun since
God was a boy!

We were standing on the ridge of the road one day, talking aout the
harrowing options he faces with Marcia who is getting worse with
every day that passes when he spotted an eagle soaring above us.
‘What’s he doing?’ he asked.  Ever the romantic, I replied that he
was just riding the thermals, revelling in his freedom and glorying
in the day.  Ever the pragmatist, George said ‘no he’s not, he’s got
his eye on something . . .. . . could be you, you’re small enough.’
‘Could be you’ I retorted ‘you’re not much bigger than me! . . . .
Mind you, he might like something with a bit more meat on its bones!’
Ged finally began the long trek home on Wednesday and such was his
desire to get home, they did 3,500kms in 48 hours and all my plans
were thrown out of the window when he announced he would be home on
Friday night, rather than Saturday as planned.  So I took the day off
and got the house scrubbed, polished and sparkling and even put a
fresh head on the razor for a thorough de-fuzzing.  And then I headed
out to re-stock the pantry in Wauchope when the wheels fell off my
world – literally! . . . .

I had worked til 2am on Thursday night/Friday morning and then, when
I was making the steep climb down Tom’s Creek Road into the valley
noticed with alarm that every time I braked, the wheels wrenched in
the opposite direction to the way I was steering.  I took it really
slowly and promised myself a wheel alignment at the earliest
opportunity.  By the time I got home it was pretty bad but when I got
in the car on Friday I realised that this was very serious.  I drove
the 2kms from the house to the main gate and then when I got out to
open it, took a close look at my wheels and find the driver’s side
front at a perilous 45 degree angle to the ground and car.  I wasn’t
going anywhere!  One call to the NRMA to come and pick up the car,
one to Ged to ring George to come and take me home (I was wearing
heels for once in my life and I was not walking! – anyway, I had done
my daily run, thank you very much!)  And so George lumbered to the
rescue in his huge cattle truck and in the end took me to Long Flat
to pick up the mail, sitting sandwiched between him and Marcia on the
bench seat, laughing all the way.  Bless him!

Ged did the shopping and came home to me and we took the weekend off
the yard and house work to revel in each other’s company . . .
aaahhhh, young love . . . .