Lambs are natural escape artists. They have a tendency to leak through fences. Minty was winding herself around my ankles like a cat so getting her in the shot was impossible. These two were inspecting the trucks. Soon Mama started to make a racket and they darted back through the fence like good little lambs. I fixed the gap.
So I was talking to my daughter last night, giving her my grocery list for the Red Cross parcel that someone usually sends me once or twice a year from New Zealand.
“Bad news about the Marmite.” she said.
“What do you mean?” I said, idly dropping dirty dishes in the dishwasher. The first three items on my list were Marmite. I am down to the last few scrapes, I can make a jar last almost a year if I am frugal. A cupboard without Marmite is bare.
“The factory was in the earthquake.”
“The Christchurch earthquakes?” I said.
” Your Grandfather wrote me yesterday that they closed his church. I guess the tremors are still happenning. The same day, they decided Farmers was not safe anymore and halfway through the morning, with no warning, some shrieker got on the loud speakers and told everyone to get out immediately. Right now! Evacuate! Curtains were yanked open and women were running for the exits trying to pull their clothes on as they ran. Can you just see all the wobbly Farmers shoppers, pushing their arms back through their cardies, holding their pants up, handbags in the crooks of their arms, jamming themselves through the exit doors.” I laughed out loud at the thought. “Once they were all in the street they turned around and gathered to see what was going to happen and nothing did!”
I smother a laugh. It really is not funny.
“This is serious.” She says.
I try to be good. I put on my mother voice. “What is serious darling?”
“The Marmite Crisis. They are calling it Marmegeddon!”
“There is a crisis?” I watch John take back out the dirty dishes, rinse them and stack them properly in the dishwasher. “What kind of crisis?”
“Are you listening.?” she said.
“Course I am listening darling.”
“I can hear dishes. Stop doing the dishes and pay attention.”
I sigh, she is so strict this daughter of mine. I walk onto the verandah and stand looking at the barn.
“OK, I am all ears.”
“New Zealand is running out of Marmite.”
“Quick, go to the supermarket right now and buy the rest for me. Buy them all darling, I will send you some money. I can’t run out. How will I make my gravy. What about my morning toast? It is the taste of New Zealand. I have to have a stock.” I try to control the panic in my voice.
“Mum. There are none left!”
“NONE? Anywhere. No jars of Marmite left? No-one warned us? Are there hoarders, are people hoarding? Is there a black market Marmite thingy somewhere. Wait, I used to know some guys in the Mongrel Mob, I taught their kids. They might be able to get me some.”
“Mum. The Mongrel Mob is not hoarding Marmite.”
Calling all you Marmite Hoarders!! I am willing to pay TOP DOLLAR for the Marmite. And don’t try and sell me that British imitation Marmite it is too runny. NO Vegemite either, I can tell the difference! Get a hold of me any way you can. This is serious crisis!
Good morning. I hope you are all well this morning eating your Marmite on toast! I am rationing myself to a smear. I cannot believe an entire country could run out of an essential food like this. They had better have it sorted out by November when I visit!
Yesterday Our John cut a small area down the back for hay. It will be grass hay. So far so good though. It is cut and today is fine, warm and clear. Tonight he will rake it. Which will turn it over to dry the other side. Then the next day it is raked into a hedgerow and then baled by Thursday all being well. John has never done haymaking before so it is an adventure!
It takes a wee while because after I have filled the tractor bucket, I drive over to the hose and soak it with water, then off down the back we trundle and dump it on the new compost pile. So we will be doing more today!
Oh and I was asked yesterday how many chooks in the chook house. I tried to count but they move too fast. I would say about twenty five or thirty.
Daisy comes into the milk room for a brush and a special feed each morning and evening as a practice for milking and is being surprisingly docile and good. She is not bothered at all by the pump which is a relief.
Have a great day today. Good morning.