I thought the two-legged’s were going to have some sort of fit with the length this dry spell was going on for. But then it actually rained. You would have thought it was Christmas. There was a lot of talking loudly and sitting watching the rain fall and a bottle of fizzy stuff was popped. Nearly gave me a heart-attack. Of course it’s pretty darn boring when it rains. There’s a bit of poking about on the quad bikes and a lot of,

‘Jack don’t put mud everywhere.’

Like I can help it. But rain means grass eventually and grass means cattle and sheep that need to be moved around paddocks. Looks like I’m back in business. Well hopefully soon.

On the relationship side I did have to have that chat with Jill. I must admit I put it off for a couple of days in the hopes that Jill would see the light and the romance would dwindle. It didn’t. At least not from Jill’s perspective. Things may not have got so bad, but Camille…. You remember her? The wannabe northwest acre chaser from Sydney? Well she came looking for her man.

Yep that high maintenance mutt walked four miles, cut across the river and arrived looking like a drowned Persian cat that had been put through one of those old-fashioned manglers.  Now there’s an image that warms my heart.

Rodger – caught – looked suitably guilty. Camille, her suspicions firmed gave Jill the once-over and turned her back.

‘You’ve got all of ten seconds to say goodbye Rodger,’ Camille huffed, ‘or you won’t see me again.’

‘And if you leave you won’t see me again either,’ Jill whined.

Rodger looked like one of those clowns at the circus. Small head moving from side to side, mouth open.

Personally I thought it would have been a good thing for all concerned if Camille left immediately. I couldn’t quite see her tailing a mob. She’d be worried about her pedicure and dusting the kennel at the end of the working day.

‘I’ll come visit,’ Rodger suggested quietly, as he walked towards Jill to say good-bye. Fortunately Jill’s Kelpie blood came to the fore and she turned her back on him and lifted her nose in the air.

A few hours on and Jill’s bottom lip was beginning to droop so I did have to say those immortal words, ‘ Jill, he’s just not that into you’.

A day later I found Jill under the house chewing up the pictures of Rodger.

‘I’m sorry things didn’t work out sis.’

‘Frankly Jack,’ she said tightly, ‘I don’t give a damn’.