Dear Santa, Hope you had a good and Covid-free year above in Lapland. We’ve been plagued by it down here, and it’s worse it’s getting. So if you have any spare vaccines knocking around up there, stick a few in the stocking. They certainly won’t go to waste!
I presume you can’t do anything about the weather, but I reckon you could probably get your hands on some blocking or access codes to those satellites that the Department of Agriculture has me plagued with.
If I could just hack into the system to delete out all my ditches I’d have a much handier 2020 in store.
Speaking of hackers, do you know that fella in Armagh that supplies the tamper-proof tag removers? A few calves slipped through the cracks when they were born a few months ago, and it would be grand altogether if could get them tagged without having to endure the Spanish (aka Department) Inquisition.
Obviously, there’s room for improvement at my end Santa, and I fully acknowledge that. It’s just tricky to keep herself happy and stay on top of everything else piling up outside.
She’d be roaring at me to get in out of the yard every night before she goes to bed, and dragging me out for “a stroll” of a Sunday.
Lord knows, it was frustrating to be wasting the effort of a walk down the beach when there’s work to be done.
Maybe there’s such a thing as a farm fairy up there in the North Pole? Just someone who would be good with stock, handy with their hands, have a degree in electro-mechanics, as well as being a qualified accountant...and preferably happy enough to do the usual 70 hours a week in return for a decent feed in the middle of the day and an occasional spin down to the co-op store and mart.
And if you are at the mart between now and Christmas Eve, would you pick me up some nice reddish weanlings? All the bean counters tell us that the prospects for beef have never been worse, but you could be forgiven for believing otherwise. Sure anything with a dash of red in its coat standing on four legs is worth a solid fortune at the moment.
Maybe you should consider a bit of extra security in case them cattle rustlers come after your Rudolph!
I could also do with a bit of help with my 92-year-old neighbour and his 17 acres backing up to the haggard. It hasn’t been grazed this century, and I only asked her if I could put her land down for exporting a bit of slurry.
Sure the poor woman thought I was trying to tie her into the Brexit negotiations and is dead set against it.
I wouldn’t mind, but her 14 cats have been helping themselves to at least five litres of milk a day from my dairy since 1983. That was grand when the superlevy was hanging over me, but she owes me big time at this stage.
I don’t suppose you’d give Boris Johnson a good clout to try to knock a bitta sense into him for us Paddys? If not for our sake, then at least for poor Ursula von der Leyen. How she puts up with having to listen and look at that face beats me. She deserves a medal and make sure you leave something nice under her tree on my behalf.
But maybe I should be concentrating on more practical things like a new tractor. One of those ones that can drive itself in the 180-200 horsepower range. I know they’re pricey, but I see all the neighbours flying around in them so there must be a good deal on them out there somewhere.
One last thing. That aul chlorine ban has me driven demented. How am I to keep the parlour clean with that wishy-washy stuff they tell me I have to use now? Lucky enough, I’ve an IBC tank of chlorine around the back that’ll do me until retirement. All I need is a couple of ‘chlorine-free’ labels to get me through the inspection.
That should do it for this year Santa. I’ll leave out a few low protein nuts for the reindeer so they’ll be able to comply with the nitrates directive. Tell Mrs Claus I was asking for her.