Patrol

Nige and I plodded on with patrol.

It was an endless list of farms to be checked, and licenses to be issued; boring at best, downright dangerous at the worst.

One amusing incident on patrol to report; we were sent to a posh 'estate', the owner of which was a knight of the realm.  As usual, we phoned ahead, and on arrival at the 'big house' we tossed a coin as to who was going to knock the enormous door that was waiting for us....

I lost, so wandered up to the huge antique door; I knocked, and after a long wait the lady of the house opened the door:

"Yes? " she said.

"We're from the ministry.  We did phone, and Sir x is expecting us"

"Ah, my husband is out checking the stock.  You'll have to wait for him."  She said.  "Which one of you is the vet?"

I looked at Nigel, and he nearly grinned.  "He is."  I said.

"Well, while you wait, would you mind awfully if I asked you to look at my hunter?  It's in the lane behind the house"

Nigel put on his best 'posh client' voice:

"It would be a pleasure, M'laday"...

We set off for the lane, with Nigel chuckling, and repeating the 'would you mind awfully' line........

On arrival at the 'lane', we found a wide, grassy, farm track with a large (17hh +) grey mare happily grazing along it's verges.  

"Right..." says the vet....  "You pop up the lane and grab it's head collar, and I'll wait here and watch its' action as you lead it back down...."

Famous last words.

The bloody thing wouldn't let me within ten feet of it.  I ran up and down that lane like Lyndford Christie, and never got within 10 feet of the animal.

After 20 minutes of hard exercise, I staggered down the lane towards Nigel, wheezing and coughing as I went and totally unable to even speak.  Sir x pulled up in his Range Rover, and casually says to Nigel; 

"The wife said she'd asked you to look at the horse.  What's the verdict?"

Nigel scratched his chin, while considering his professional reply;

"Well Sir x , your wifes hunter seems to be in far better condition than my assistant................"

If I could have spoken at the time, I would have had a few choice words for the vet, the knight and the very fit horse!

Life went on, a dull and dangerous existence travelling the length and breadth of the county looking at healthy farm stock and licensing movements.

By this time, there were quite a few staff staying in our hotel.  Members of the unit mingled with valuers, vets and others employed to deal with foot and mouth.  Usually, members of the unit gathered together for our evening meal, and discussed the various events of the day.

One night, a member of the unit sat on his own, and seemed to be starring into space.  "What's wrong with him?", I asked a colleague; "He was on a 'slaughter' today" he replied.  "Best leave him to it".

The next day, Nigel and I had to drive through one of the disease hot spots in the county.  As we negotiated our way around a narrow farm lane, we came to a halt behind a large articulated lorry.  We sat and waited as a telescopic handler suddenly appeared, with a huge, bloated cow on its forks.  As the cow dropped into the lorry with a thud, foot and mouth suddenly seemed very real to us both.