It is the simple things in life that please us most in the countryside. Particularly in Springtime when we, like the birds, venture out of our nests to enjoy the sunshine. The curlews shreaking high above to the greedy stoat steeling the eggs, they each have their place in a complex web that makes the countryside so great.

I have been listening to the commentary surrounding the ‘Foxes Live’ programme, but have refused to watch it in order to save my temper. It strikes me that there is nothing natural about a bin-rading hunter living in the city. What role exactly are they supposed to be playing? A pest in the countryside, but a marvel in the city. What has happened to the world? If you want to see nature, get off your sofa and go enjoy it in the flesh, not through the pixelated blur of a poor night vision camera. Take a leson from the geese, go on, get out there, whilst you still physically can, otherwise your next programme will be ‘Supersize Vs Superskinny’.

Of course, steak wouldn’t be steak without a compulsory bottle of fine Claret. With this particular steak, I opened a lonely 2005 Grand Cru that was a gift for dogsitting on so many occassions. Splendid.

I urge you all to embrace British Beef Week. Cast aside the fears of it sitting in your guts for seven years (complete nonsense in my opinion) and just enjoy the fruits of the fields, in a massive piece of cow. If you aren’t lucky enough to have a good local butcher, then a supermarket steak will suffice, but remember to look for the little tractor symbol. Try to pick a piece of meat that is deep blood red, as this will have been hung for longer, be more tender and have more flavour.

Please leave your comments below to let me know how you get on.

They are right though. Days of heavy rain after a prolonged period of drought is the ‘wrong’ sort of rain. This year we began our first water rationing in early march when the tank ran dry. We stuck to a strict regime of only flushing when necessary, taps off when brushing teeth, no ‘Hollywood’ Showers, and definately no laundry. Townsfolk take it for granted that they can turn a tap on and water comes out. Well not for much longer (if you believe the news). All I can say is “Welcome to life in the country”. I bet no townfolk have ever had to climb inside their own water resource and extract a dead frog that has been sucked into the pipe!? Well we have.

On a lighter note, the grass is growing now, and all we need is a slight change in the wind to bring a little warmer weather, and we will have optimum grass growing season, leading to more winter feed, lower costs, greater profit and lower food prices for all. An awful lot happens with just a little rain.

Does this extend to humans? It begs the question as to whether we need the mountain of baby books, if, when if we strip ourselves of all opinion and lecturing, we would just get on with it and do it. As mother nature intended. Now, I am not suggesting we all go off into the woods to give birth, I am merely asking the question.

Casting all theories aside, I am now the proud father of nine (after a recount) puppies, including three bitches and six dogs. So, if you know of anybody that is looking, please do get them in touch.

Now, at 11am, the sun beams unto my desk and is rapidly thawing the snow as quickly as it came. Is this just God’s cruel trick to push us to break our fast? All I say is, lets pray that it isn’t a sign of things to come for the summer.

Rather like the spring tulip fighting to keep its head above the snow, this blog is going to be my fight to rise above the rest of the e-gossip that exists in the world. It will be my little way of speaking for the countryside and its occupants through daily life on a small estate in Weardale. One thing I know for sure is that every day brings a new challenge in the most beautiful setting. So, long live the tulip and may this blog be the start of a flowering relationship with you all.