Thursday, 15 April 2010

Not a lot makes sense here. Unless you like sheep.

Today we went to College Lake to celebrate sheep. I think this reveals something about my character. It shows you that I am soft and gentle and fluffy and have a warm endearing side. No! Really! Stay with that thought!

Because it may be the moment to confess a small vulnerability. I have a weakness for sheep. OK, make that a big-hearted tenderness. In fact, I like sheep so much I might have lived as a sheep in a former life. That could explain why I am very cautious near wolves. Or how I like to aimlessly wander over rolling English fields and all the way back again. Yes, and the fact that I am a vegetarian. Because I cannot eat a piece of my own soul. Of course it might also explain my hair, which is left over sheep hair.

But it gives me a problem. I cannot use the word sheeple, as I am supposed to. I know the word sheeple is used to suggest people who allow their attitudes to be shaped by everyone else, and who simply do not mind being told what to do, think, and say - uhoh, I just listed a few more reasons why I'm not voting Labour - but each time I see that word, sheeple, I shiver. It is just too insulting to sheep.

I mean, have you ever watched sheep? Really stood around on the perimeter of a cold field with the rain-laden wind sweeping across the grass, smacking you in the face to remind you of your own stupidity for standing there watching sheep?

I can tell you that sheep are quite independent. Oh yes they are. I admit they can be rounded up and shot, but I can tell you that in their life journey they have arguments. They really do. And in those arguments, they stand their ground.

I have noticed that if you get one sheep crossing the field in one direction, and it meets a sheep crossing in the other direction, then they will both stand and look at each other for some considerable length of time. Quietly.

I take this to mean they are silently communicating. Perhaps negotiating field-passing rights if they are cousins or otherwise well disposed. If this has happened before and it is a grudge match, they may be plotting some revenge involving poo, or planning to stand near ditches, where they lure their enemy before bumping into them backwards byaccidentonpurpose, sending them tumbling into the ditch and to certain humiliation. Then the whole crowd may watch the indignity of the conquered singledout sheep rolling around on their backsides with their legs in the air. Of course I have empathy.

As you can see, I have put some thought into all this. And I hope it explains a few things. How I really do have a sensitive side; how I lurk around very independent-minded blogs where everyone communicates using the word sheeple; shall not be voting labour; really do look like a sheep; and am mug enough to be easily scammed out of twenty quid by the Wool Marketing Board for pornyvideos about fleece.

Now here are some pictures of sheep-related craft. Enjoy.





7 comments:

MadameSmokinGun said...

I was once absorbed by sheep watching from a train window - so absorbed that I am still convinced (over 20 years later) that I actually became a sheep for some minutes or possibly only seconds but it felt like a lifetime before I popped back into the train and whizzed past. Don't know why I shared that - just felt like it.

Also - on a sheepish (more insulting lingo) note: once read about the Chinese Year of animals, and sometimes I am a goat, and sometimes a sheep and I remember reading that you should never upset a sheep because a battling sheep was a most fearsome sight. Felt alot better about being a sheep.

Back to the train - being a sheep was extremely pleasing. It felt very odd and cold suddenly being a person again.

sharon said...

Sheep aside, now that the momentous decision not to vote labour (deliberately not gracing them with a capital), have you managed to make your alternative choice yet? No need to tell it, just wondering. My Mama is going to vote Lib-Dem as they are touting a change to the tax threshold which will make her personal and widow's pension tax-free. This pleases her greatly as the evil ones kindly doubled her tax contribution to ease the burden on rich folk! My nephew, who is half West Indian, is currently considering the BNP on the grounds that they may ship him off to live out his days in the Windies..... It's all a very sorry state of affairs.

Firebird said...

I may well curse your name for linking to the Wool Marketing Board one day :-)

If we had the space we would keep sheep but for now I'll have to make do with buying fleece from other people's Sheep ... and Alpacas and Lamas (since there are both locally)

Re: sheeple, you're right, an insult to sheep, rather like saying Ed Balls looks like a startled pig. Pigs are lovely animals and certainly don't deserve such a comparison.

belzi23 said...

You'd like it round here :) We have wild marauding sheep wandering through our village streets - real sheep, woolly ones :0) I once opened my backdoor and they're was a ewe and her lamb stood there, looking for all intents and purposes as if they were calling round for a brew!

wsxwhx685 said...

IS VERY GOOD..............................

kellyi said...

Sheep are also wicked fast, much more so than cows.

(We made glasses with mismatched scrapstore lenses today - you have a lot to answer for Lady.)

Pig in the Kitchen said...

where have your comments' boxes gone Grit??! They are not on your new posts. the sculptures look fab and interesting to learn about your journey from tippytappy shoes to...well what can we term the place we are in now??!
Pigx