Firebreak.

 Thursday 16th October 2025.

Today I have been out ploughing again. I finished off the field I started yesterday. I have to admit to not being in a very good mood on account of recent troubles. To be honest I have come to wonder if something that causes so much grief actually defeats the object of doing this in the first place.

Before setting about my work I was up early this morning as I wanted to analyse the information I received yesterday with regard to the anonymous message sent to a friend that I mentioned. At the time I felt sure that it was not sent by someone I knew. However after going through some of the more obvious names and still not coming up with anything I spotted someone who I never considered and even at first glance there were things that stood out. So I decided to do a full in depth comparison of writing styles working through all six categories in true Miss Oliver fashion. I feel sure that reading my conclusion she would have been pleased. There were a number of consistent similarities in both tone and structure. I actually came out with a score of 90 to 100 percent but I could find absolute proof that they were the same person so it's best to deduct at least 5%. Even if I was really generous and said 85 to 95% that is still high enough to make me sure I have the right person.

The other surprise that came out of this analyse is that I was part the problem to some extent. I seem to have somehow painted this picture of myself and current lifestyle that some people want to not just be a part of and grateful that I share, but to demand as their own. Which is fine, I enjoy sharing my good fortune, but not when it's demanded of me, without what seems to me to be any regard to what I need to do for myself.

So what do I do about this. I feel like just quitting altogether, but I also feel a responsibility to my loyal, trouble free readers. So I won't just stop as that would be unfair. However I also have to think about the effect my writing is having on certain individuals. To write a message like that to whom they wrote it tells me that I need to do something to dowse the flames rather than fan them with more of the same.

So in view of all of the above I am going to create a fire break effect. It will give people who write stupid massages time to ponder their actions. Hopefully it will become more about what they have rather than what they want. It will give me time to evaluate, not so much my writing style, but my style of interaction with my audience. I'm clearly provoking jealousy among people, so I need to look in to how that comes about and stop it. It's not at all what I want. For all those well behaved readers who feel this is unfair to them I promise you won't miss a thing in return for a bit of patience. Being decent people I'm sure you can understand that I can't allow this situation with the nasty messages to carry on or you may be the next one to be receiving one. I'm going to leave my diary in public mode for anyone who wants to spend time reading past entries. (Provided everyone behaves from now on). My next entry will be on the Saturday 15th November 2025.

Not Amused.

 Wednesday 15th October 2025

I've had a message from a friend today telling me they’ve been getting abuse from someone who follows me. I’m not going into details, as it’s a private matter, but I felt it needed saying here just in case anyone else has received anything similar — especially messages trying to warn them off from speaking to me.

If that’s happened, please let me know. Who I speak to and who can message me is my decision, and I won’t have anyone interfering with that. I’ve always made a point of keeping my messages open to everyone, and I’ve tried to reply to everyone too, even on nights when all I’ve wanted to do was collapse into bed.

I can’t write any more today; I’m too annoyed. This is the first real trouble I’ve had here, and I’m not at all amused. I hope it’s dealt with quickly so things can get back to normal.

Mum’s chauffeur.

 

Tuesday 14th October 2025

I was looking forward to doing some more ploughing today, but that all changed over breakfast.

Yesterday evening, Mum was getting into a bit of a panic about her friend Jane. They were due to meet up for the day today, only Mum had completely forgotten until Jane reminded her in a message last night. The reason for the panic came from the destination — somewhere over Pontefract way, just off the M62 motorway. Mum’s fine driving when it’s somewhere familiar, but she soon gets flustered if it’s a route she doesn’t know.

Anyway, things only got worse over breakfast, with Mum fretting on about “what if this” and “what if that,” and wondering where Junction 62 was, and whether she’d even know where she was when she got there. I think it all became too much for Dad, because he suddenly, and rather sharply, said,

“Look, Jan, just use your phone like any normal person does.”

My eyes met with Eric’s, and I knew we were both thinking the same thing. The thought came instantly — I needed to step in. The last thing I wanted was to have to choose which one to live with if they ended up getting a divorce!

“If it’s okay, I don’t mind swapping my day off to take you,” I said. “I can make up the time on Saturday if that’s alright with everyone.”

“Katie, you don’t have days off or days on around here. You do as you please and see fit, dear. I’ve more than enough faith in you to prioritise your life properly,” said Dad.

That was nice of him — and I could tell it was a great weight off Mum’s mind too. Dad went on to say there was no rush for the ploughing to be done anyway. He just knew how much I enjoyed being out on the tractor and wanted to make sure I wasn’t missing out.

So today, I’ve been Mum’s chauffeur. We met Jane for lunch, then went back to her house for dinner. Because it was after dinner when we got home, we brought Dad fish and chips — we knew he’d be starving by then. I made sure to go into the chip shop to place the order myself, just so I could ask for an extra-large portion. I knew he’d need a little help with one that size!

Like a tangled web.

 Monday 13th October 2025

I’ve been thinking quite a bit about what Dad said to me last night. Then, this morning, while Mum and I were taking a short break from cleaning, she suddenly said out of the blue,

“Your dad’s a different man since you came to us.”

“I hope that’s a good thing,” I said.

“Yes, of course,” she smiled. “He’s always kept his feelings locked away inside, and that’s no good to anybody. What he said to you last night about that song was so true—it made my own heart weep to hear him say something like that.”

I told her she should have joined us on the sofa and let her own feelings flow too.

Mum also mentioned that it was talk of Eric retiring that prompted them to make that trip to Scotland when they bumped into me. They’d thought it might be their last chance to go away for a while if they needed to hire someone new and get them settled in to look after the place. Since I showed up, though, Eric’s had a new lease of life and hasn’t even mentioned retiring again.

I knew Eric had given up on retiring—mainly so he could keep teasing me every day—but I hadn’t realised he was the reason they ended up at the end of the big house drive when they did. It still amazes me how all those little coincidences line up so perfectly. Without Eric hinting at retirement, without Grandfather deciding to drive down the track when he did, without the blue van man turning up… not to mention me, Irene, Mum, and Dad all choosing that particular day.

All those people and choices—each one had to come together at just the right time, or I’d have been anywhere else but here. Even Dirty Dave played his part. It’s strange how everyone’s lives are connected—sometimes by people you’ve never met and never will—but who still somehow shape the paths of those you do meet.

These are the things I find myself thinking about while I’m driving along in the tractor, so long as it’s not a job that demands all my attention. And when I do, there’s a quiet comfort in knowing that, however tangled the paths might seem, they somehow led me home.

A lovely day.

 Sunday 12th October 2025

Today’s entry really began last evening, when Dad came in from work. He came straight over and gave me a big hug — quite out of the blue — and then, with a grin, announced,

“We must have a music night tonight. There’s something I want you to listen to.”

He’s always enthusiastic about his music nights, but the way he said it made me feel this one might be something a little different — something special.

As it turned out, the music night never happened. Mum poured a bit of cold water on the idea when she reminded him that one of her favourite TV shows was reaching its grand finale. She wasn’t being nasty at all; we both knew how much she’d been following it. That’s just the way things are here — little rhythms and rituals we all make room for.

So, tonight, music night finally happened. I took up my usual position — tucked in close beside Dad and his glass of whisky on the sofa — the same spot I claim most evenings, not just when music’s involved. Once we were settled, Dad queued up a singer called Bill Withers. I hadn’t heard of him before, so I didn’t know what to expect. His songs were warm and soulful, though I thought he did stretch things out a bit here and there.

We started with a track called “Ain’t No Sunshine.” Then, before he played the next one — “Lovely Day” — Dad turned to me and said,

  “Pay close attention to the words in this track, Katie. They say exactly what you do to me… and to everyone else you meet during your day.”

I could tell right then that it was going to be one of those moments. And sure enough, before the first chorus was over, I was crying like a baby in my dad’s arms. It was so touching, so impossibly tender, it almost hurt. He wrapped his arm around me, gave me a little kiss on the forehead — the way he does when he’s feeling especially proud or soft-hearted — and said quietly,

  “You must never question your worth, Katie. Giving this kind of feeling to the people around you — that’s worth having you here, even without all the other things you do for us.”

I don’t think I’ll forget that moment for a long time. There was such a lovely hush in the room afterwards — just the low hum of the music, the soft crackle from the fire, and the comfort of belonging exactly where I was meant to be.

I’ve put the words below for anyone who doesn’t know them, and a link to the song too. Listening to it gives a far better sense of the feeling than the words alone ever could.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bEeaS6fuUoA

Lovely Day

Song by Bill Withers 

When I wake up in the morning, love

And the sunlight hurts my eyes

And something without warning, love

Bears heavy on my mind

Then I look at you

And the world's alright with me

Just one look at you

And I know it's gonna be

A lovely day 

When the day that lies ahead of me

Seems impossible to face

When someone else instead of me

Always seems to know the way

Then I look at you

And the world's alright with me

Just one look at you

And I know it's gonna be

A lovely day 

When the day that lies ahead of me

Seems impossible to face

And when someone else instead of me

Always seems to know the way

Then I look at you

And the world's alright with me

Just one look at you

And I know it's gonna be

A lovely day

Today we planted spring.

 Saturday 11th October 2025

I stayed home with Mum today rather than going to the stables. A box of flower bulbs she ordered arrived the other day, and with the sunshine pouring in through the kitchen window this morning, she decided it was the perfect day to get them planted. It turned into a bit of a joint project — or perhaps more of a guided one — with Mum calling out instructions while I did the digging.

She has a way of making even the smallest task feel purposeful. I’d no sooner finished one hole before she was already deciding what colour would bloom there. There was a quiet rhythm to it all: the scrape of the trowel, the soft crumble of soil, her voice, the faint smell of autumn drifting through the air. We finished just before lunch, our handiwork tucked neatly beneath the earth, a promise of spring hidden away. As though we had just planted spring itself.

After lunch I took a bag of seed out to where Dad was drilling. I stayed with him for an hour, sitting in the cab and watching the neat lines form across the field. He doesn’t talk much when he’s working, but there’s a kind of companionship in the silence. The hum of the engine, the turning of the drill, the steady patience of it all — it gives you time to think without feeling alone. There is something comforting about sitting with dad while he is working even a word never passes between us, it doesn't seem to matter.

On the way home, I slowed by the stables and decided to stop in for a minute. Rob was there, leaning on the garden wall, and he looked genuinely pleased to see me. He even said how much he misses me being around on Saturdays, which made me smile. There was a time when that place had become to feel almost like an extension of myself — the smell of hay and leather, the sound of hooves in the yard — but lately, it feels like something I’ve stepped further back from without quite meaning to. I thought about walking across to see if Charlotte was there, but I couldn’t bring myself to. It felt as though I’d be intruding, like I was only half-belonging to something that had started to be mine.

Rob told me not to be silly, reminded me that I still own the place. He’s right, of course, but ownership and belonging aren’t always the same thing.

When I got back home, the light was already turning that soft, golden sort that settles gently over everything. The garden looked peaceful, the soil dark where we’d planted the bulbs. Mum was inside, humming to herself as she put the kettle on ready for our afternoon tea. On the way to the summerhouse I stood for a while just looking at the neat patches of earth, knowing that beneath the surface something new was waiting to grow. I have never felt that anywhere I've been before. It struck me that maybe that’s how it is with people too — sometimes you have to let a season pass quietly before something familiar starts to feel like yours again.

Quiet times.

 Today I have been on a new job. Well actually it's the same job as cultivating really but with a different implement. I've been going over the ground with the discs, as they are called, on the fields that I first did with he cultivator a few weeks back. There were a few weeds germinated so I disced them up in front of dad with the seed drill.

That's it really, there is not much of anything else to report. I've been sitting here that long trying to think of thing that my mouse has got fed up of waiting and turned itself off!