Introduction

A year or so ago, I was trying to write a book combining the grandeur and originally of Northern Lights with the delicate charm of Pride and Prejudice, and it wasn't going all that well, when I got an email from my publisher suggesting I might like to try my hand at writing something true for a change: a book about rural life.

 

It sounded like fun, and a good excuse to put that frustration, not-working novel to one side. So I started a diary, thinking that would give a nice overview of a typical farming year. The fact that 2020 ended up having a global pandemic in the middle of it made the year less typical than I was expecting, but such is life. 

 

We - my husband, two children and I - live on a sheep farm halfway down the North Island. We farm 1200 ewes and 400 cattle, on 460 hectares of rolling hill country. Around three-quarters of the farm is in grass, the rest is native bush, and I think it's the nicest place in the world, although I know I'm biased.

 

I work part-time as a large-animal vet, help on the farm and write in my spare time. Because the spare time is fairly limited, the writing tends to be accompanied by guilt at not doing something more useful, like filling bait stations or spraying gorse.

 

This diary isn't entirely true, because I decided that faithfully reproducing my friends and relatives in print probably wasn't the best idea, but it's as accurate a record as I could write without hurting anyone's feelings or being accused of defamation of character.

 

Despite my low-level guilt at cutting down into bait-station-filling time, I've had a lovely time writing this book. I hope you like it.

 

Monday 15 July

Maternal fashion at the school bus stop reached a new low this morning. I was wearing fluffy slippers, polar fleece trackpants (very unflattering 어울리지 않는) and a khaki-coloured polar fleece jumper. Amy, who lives just down the road, was in a grubby dressing-gown and gumboots, and Jaide from up the road was in shiny camo-patterned tights and an egg-stained hoodie. None of us had brushed our hair. 

 

I am so grateful not to live in a smart suburb where the other mothers have expensive highlights (셔츠, 탑) and wear Lululemon.

 

Tuesday 16 July

The pet pigs are deeply unimpressed by the weather. It has rained without stopping for the last 30 hours, with one mini tornado by way of variation. We got home tonight to find them both camped in the carport, having found their way through two fences. They were soothed by half a pot of leftover soup (pea and ham, but what they don't know won't hurt them) and four Anzac biscuits.