The Llamas at The Larches.... (actually they're Alpacas but that didn't rhyme!)

We had an interesting weekend; a party in Henley-on-Thames for The Entrepreneur, a good friend. A flying visit to my sister and family in Guildford.

'Thank you,' I called to her from the car window as we headed off back to deepest Shropshire, to lambs and sheep, chicks and cats, 'Thank you for almost having us....' She laughed, she knows we're mad.

We were home by midnight and the sproglets, Hubby and I fell exhausted into our beds.

As usual, the next morning I awoke at 6am for a bit of thinking time. I'd be a good milkman as I love to get up early. I especially like the time in the morning where it's just me and the coffee, oh and the cats, er yes, and the lambs, oh and not forgetting the chicks...... Oh for God's sake!... my mornings have been invaded.

Anyhoo, this Sunday morning was glorious, the sun beating down, the coffee hot. After opening up and feeding the broods I wandered about the gardens perusing the plants that hadn't yet been eaten by lambs.

Late morning when the sproglets and hubby had finally emerged from their beds, I was free to mow the walled garden and tidy as loudly as I liked.

After an impromptu BBQ lunch and a decadent glass of wine, I wandered off to assess whether the 10yo's rare breed chicken compound needed to move to fresh ground. It did and I was just in the throes of catching the massivo rooster when the 8yo started screaming somewhere in the distance...

'Mum, Mum!'

I thought something really bad had happened, a death at least.

'Mum, there's a trailer with llamas in it.'

I assumed someone was lost, way off the beaten track, asking for directions.

'Dad's bought llamas,' the 8yo insisted.

I knew this was impossible but in order to soften the disappointment that the 8yo was sure to feel when they drove off, I thought I'd best come and see what all the fuss was about.

Rounding the side of the house there was indeed a livestock trailer on the drive, worryingly the ramp was down and Hubby was grinning from ear to ear. The 10yo stood, gobsmacked, staring into the cavity while the 8yo was in rapture.

'They're ours, they're Alpacas. Daddy's bought Alpacas. I love you Dad,' he repeated over and over.

They were. He had.

Gob. Smacked.

Did I mention they're both pregnant?

Lordy love a duck! Scary but so exciting. I'm amazed I had no idea they were coming.... what a fab Hubby.

Next instalment when the shock and awe has worn off a bit. A big welcome to Anabelle and Bracken.

Lou