A replacement for the Ride-on Mower (or, a new buck pen)

The Ride-on Mower left the farm some months ago, to go cavorting with a handsome gelding out West. Back then, it was the middle of Winter, and there wasn't much work for her anyway, so nobody really missed her (especially Helen, who made it no secret that she hated having to share all the attention).
When Spring arrived, nobody was prepared. The lawns slowly got longer and longer, but there were more pressing issues. Kim and Cliff had gone their separate ways and needed help packing, the piglets needed a new house, the second vegetable garden needed Chicken Protection, and Albie needed a buck pen.

Albie, surveying his new plot of land, complete with
Swiss-Style chalet.

Kim and Cliff were duly shipped off in a horse float and a caged trailer, and the piglets had a bus shelter modified to include a stunning deck with room for a barbecue and some outdoor furniture, and views out over the bush. The tomatoes got a new (and hopefully) chicken-proof fence. But everybody conveniently forgot about Albie and his need for a buck pen, because new pens generally mean new fences, and new fences generally mean digging, and digging generally means Hard Work. Hard Work is technically Mr Farmer's department, but Mr Farmer alleges it isn't in his contract.

Albie, inside the Bachelor Pad, which is located in a great
neighbourhood, just across the fence from the sheep and
the piglets.

Happily, someone else came up with a better solution. Since Albie can't work as a buck until Autumn (despite his best [successful] efforts to rut), he was approached about the Spring/Summer position of Lawn Mower. With the help of a few electric fence standards, and a bit of wire, Albie could have his pick of the best grass and weeds in all the places the sheep can't graze, and the plants (who are the reason the sheep can't graze in these locations) could relax in the knowledge that neither insidious grass growth nor hungry animals would harm them. With a bit of coercion (okay, a lead and some dragging), Albie was today enlisted as the farm's new Push/Pull Mower. His package includes limitless grass, and a Swiss-chalet-style bachelor pad.

"This is, like, the perfect location for a deck. Mr Farmer?"

Helen has never been happier. Finally, some freedom from that annoying one-and-a-sixteenth-horned buck. Albie is still trying to figure out exactly how he ended up on the front lawn, but is pretty happy with the variety of grass and weeds that have been growing plentifully since the Ride-on Mower left. The only slight disappointment for Albie is that the fruit trees are on the wrong side of the electric fence. The fruit trees are hopeful that our electricity company can refrain from having a power cut, at least until Autumn.

Mr Farmer solves a pressing problem

The Balancing-Bucket Cheese Press: outdoor use only.
Multi-purpose: doubles as a catapult.

Every year, Mr Farmer gets upset about the lack of space in the fridge, due to the growing number of batches of feta. Last year, Helen and I were proactive, and used some of her milk to make a cheddar cheese, so that Mr Farmer could have a little fridge space. The only problem with cheddar is that it requires a cheese press - because we didn't have a cheese press on hand, Helen and I had to get creative, both with our press, and with our weights. After some failed attempts balancing bricks and cans and bottles of water on top of the cheese (which resulted in some rather loud crashing), Mr Farmer stepped in with the Balancing Bucket Cheese Press. The buckets, which are full of bricks, are balanced on a fence paling which sits on a can that is just slightly smaller than the cheese mold.

The Balancing Bag Cheese Press: the indoor, but
 light-weight alternative.

The Balancing Bucket cheese press was excellent, and and made a good job of pressing the cheddar. However, as the fridge began to fill to capacity this year, we were faced with a major problem: the fence paling that had formed such an integral part of last year's cheese press was now firmly attached to a fence. Further, the Balancing Bucket Cheese Press is best suited to outdoor use, partly because of the space it takes up, and partly because of its potential to act as a catapult in the event of an imbalance - but this year's Cheddar Weekend was wet. So, we had to come up with an alternative: the Balancing Bag Cheese Press.

The Balancing Bag Cheese Press comprises two bags, full of cans and bottles of water, hanging off the end of a piece of oak that used to be part of a chair (the oak was thrilled to have avoided becoming firewood). We added a plastic jug with its bottom chopped off to the cheese mold, both because our cheese mold was too small for the volume of curds we had, and because it gave added stability to the press. We thought we had found the solution to our pressing issue, but it soon became clear that the amount of weight we were able to use was going to be limited by our bag size. We were also a little worried that the bags would not be strong enough to carry 23 kg of bricks, cans and water-filled bottles. The other pressing problem was that the Balancing Bag Cheese Press became easily unbalanced, as evidenced by the loud crashes that regularly echoed from the dining room.

The Im-press-ive Cheese Press: suitable for indoor use,
heavy weights, and entire nights without mysterious crashing
sounds echoing from the dining room.

Finally, Mr Farmer stepped in, with the Im-press-ive Cheese Press. The Im-press-ive Cheese Press is constructed from the upside-down base of a chair, and a long board with two holes in it to allow it to slot over two of the legs. The weights sit on (or hang off) the board. The legs of the upside-down chair give added stability to the press - so much so that the 23-kg of weight required to press the cheddar has been sitting quite happily on the press for the last 20 hours (a record time for weights staying where they are meant to be). The bags are full of potatoes, and the bricks (in black plastic bags), bottles of water, and cans sit on top of the press. Despite the existence of (fancier) cheese presses made from materials that were always meant to be part of a cheese press, we think the Im-press-ive Cheese Press is the peak of perfection - thanks, Mr Farmer, for saving the day.

The Unicorn in the paddock

Albie, the unicorn with a headache, about 12 hours
after the injury. Note that he is covered in dew, not fresh blood.

First it was a turkey. Then, the week later, on the 21 July, Mr Farmer arrived home from work to find a unicorn in the paddock. Leastways, what Mr Farmer actually found was a very despondent Albie, who had lost a fight and one of his horns to Roger the ram. Roger was strutting around the paddock with a minor cut on his head, telling all and sundry that he was going to change his name to Shane Cameron, and everyone should call Albie Dominic Vea.

The missing horn... ouch.

By the time Mr Farmer arrived home, the fight was well-and-truly over, and the crowds had dispersed. Albie's head-wound had even stopped bleeding. The only remaining evidence of the fight was a lone horn, lying unclaimed in the middle of the paddock. Oh, and a tearful one-horned goat, sobbing as quietly as he could about his new position as a unicorn. Mr Farmer went to tend to Albie's head wound with the bottle of iodine.

The next morning, Albie was still sniffling about the black abyss his life had become, but physically he was ok, and still not bleeding. Big Suffolk and Helen were keeping a close eye on him (obviously Roger hadn't considered the impact of the sympathy close). A google search revealed that unicorn goats are not as uncommon as everyone thought - indeed, this member of the unicorn community bears striking resemblance to Albie. In fact, the goat-to-unicorn transformation can even be done surgically.

Albie, 6 days on and recovering well.

The fact that Albie is now a unicorn (and is resigned to remaining this way for the rest of his life, unless he gets a prosthetic replacement or has another fight with Roger to get rid of the other horn) will probably not do his career as a stud goat any favours. With this in mind, Albie headed for the neighbour's paddock later that day, glumly contemplating life as a lone unicorn.

Mr Farmer, who has a secret soft spot for Albie, invited Albie to move in to the alcove under the back doorstep until he felt well enough to patch things up with Roger. Albie lived there for two weeks, with a dream diet of hay, chaff, grain and vegetable scraps - he was so miserable to start with that it took him a couple of days to get back to his old self and start complaining about being alone. His wound was clean, and healing nicely.

"I am a suave young unicorn..." Albie, three months on.

Around 1 August, when Helen decided to move next door with the cows, Albie had grown a nice, clean scab over his horn hole (for want of a better word). He and Helen were tethered on the back lawn, and Helen was bored. "Itch it." said Helen. "Go on, I dare you." Albie follows all of Helen's instructions to the best of his ability, and one deft scratch of the food later, the scab was off. Albie had a fifty-cent-coin-sized hole in his head. He was resigned back to the alcove for another week. Then, just as Albie was getting really, really bored, someone snuck up and smeared Marmite all over his horn hole, then let him loose in the paddock (satisfied that the wound was sufficiently waterproofed). Albie didn't even notice the Marmite waterproofing, but Helen did. Albie may not have been a great conversation partner, and he may not have been the coolest animal in the paddock, but all of a sudden, he sure tasted good. In fact, Albie tasted so good that Helen even let him follow her around the farm for the next couple of days. Albie is still trying to work out why Helen kept trying to lick his head (though he reckons it's because she loves him).

A 1.05-horned goat (read: lopsided).

During his recovery, Albie grew rather fond of his one-remaining horn, becoming so protective of it that he would not even share the same paddock with Roger. Although it took Albie just over a month to recover physically, it wasn't until Albie realised that being a unicorn could be a career option which would put him in touch with beautiful ladies and immeasurable fame, that he cheered up. Now, just over three months after the incident, Albie is glum once again, because he is losing his unicorn status, thanks to a scur that has just started growing where the second horn used to be. Life as a lop-sided goat doesn't seem very attractive when compared with the glamour of being a real, live unicorn.