Day 14 - UK

8 April 2011

In the morning I got up early. It was going to be another glorious day so I got breakfast and morning coffee ready while Aaron continued to sleep. When the coffee was brewed I opened the van curtains.

“I need some more sleep” Aaron said.

I left him to it and went to the guest lounge and logged onto the Internet.

When I went back to the van I got Aaron up. The poor boy was extremely ill. His head felt like it was going to explode and he had to go to the bathroom and throw up.

He hadn’t drunk a huge amount the night before so we had to put it down to the combination of high fat food (which we’re not used to) and alcohol. His system just couldn’t process it.

We stayed at the carpark until close to 11. It gave Aaron a chance to feel better and I got some washing done.

Then we left and drove into town to the Premiere Inn. Carl had kindly offered to put us up for the night in the motel he was staying in.

What bliss to have standing room, a shower that you don’t need to push a button every 30 seconds and a real bed!

We hauled our stuff into the motel room and then Carl drove us into Hereford township. It has to be said that Hereford is a very blah town. It has a reasonably big population so there’s all the big chain stores and take-away firms but it doesn’t have much character and probably only a low to middle-income population.

What it also has is a huge number of young women with babies and toddlers. There were prams everywhere. This seems to be a national trend in the big towns and cities. I have never seen so many young women and babies. I have never seen so much pink hair either. Seriously, the colour of the season is pink. Any shade will do, from subtle hints of pink to full on fluoro pink. Add to that heavy eye make-up and deeply unflattering, clingy clothes and the main word that comes to mind is ‘tart’. I’m assuming some pop star or tv star has started this look and a lot of 20 somethings have decided to adopt it.

In Wales it’s slightly worse as it appears the girls have decided it’s best to get pregnant in their teens. Hell, it was in a tiny Welsh village we saw a couple of girls who I swear were only about 9, dressed in tight clothing and stilettos. I had to look twice to make sure they weren’t in fancy dress. Aaron and I were horrified. I swear if I’d seen the mother I’d have gone up to her and slapped her. What the hell are some parents thinking?! I have come to the conclusion that it’s a direct result of the depressed economy. No jobs, no money, no goals, no hope.

We wandered around the shops, presumably window shopping but in the end it was more people watching than anything else. Eventually the boys found a pub and settled themselves down for a few drinks and lunch. I was hungry but there was nothing even remotely healthy looking on the menu. All I wanted was something simple like a roast beef and salad sandwich.

I left them to it and went for a walk. There are quite a few cafes in Hereford but without a word of a lie, I swear they all sell the same food. Every sandwich was either chicken, egg, tuna mayonnaise with more mayonnaise than tuna or coleslaw with more mayonnaise than coleslaw. I just wanted something healthy. How could that be so difficult in such a large place?? It’s no wonder the general population there is overweight.

I couldn’t face any of the food on offer and then Carl mentioned the pub back at the motel does sandwiches and so we left and then spent the rest of the day at the pub. They did indeed do nice baguettes with side dishes of salad and I was happy.

Although Carl had wanted to go back into town for the evening we decided we couldn’t afford it and so we stayed at the pub for dinner and then had an early night. We were both looking forward to getting a good night’s sleep in a real bed.

Just as we were starting to feel relaxed about being on holiday we got a phone call telling us Phyllis was unable to walk on one leg. It’s surprisingly hard to give on the spot advice about animals when you can’t see them and you’re trying to keep the phone call to a minimum to save money.

My initial instinct was that Phyllis has sprained her ankle. She’s only days away from farrowing and heavily pregnant sows are clumsy on their feet. If I was there I would observe, touch, hold and then think about what to do.

Now I had to assess blind over the phone and decide whether or not a vet should be called.

We’ve already been stung by a huge vet bill for the dogs and although they’d told us they would deduct the money over 2 months, they took the whole amount from my credit card as soon as we left the country and we’d only just realized that evening when we’d discovered we’d gone over the limit and I was going to have to stump up a penalty interest payment.

Now I had to decide whether we could afford another vet bill. I had no choice but to give permission but on the proviso it was absolutely necessary. It’s a horrible feeling to prioritise importance based on our financial situation, animal discomfort and the discomfort of our interim farm managers.

I hung up the phone feeling overwhelmed and guilt-ridden. Our one night of comfort and I spent the night lying awake regretting the decision to go on holiday. What the hell was I thinking leaving the animals for so long? How could I be so selfish as to make Bex and Jay deal with all this? Several times this holiday I have just wanted to get on the first plane and go back home. It’s even more stressful dealing with problems from afar than when they’re in front of you. 2 weeks into the holiday and as much as I am enjoying the holiday I am no less stressed and tired than when I left.