everyday

it must be something about death…the only time ive felt anything similar, albeit of a different magnitude, was on the day of my fathers funeral

give me a crucial meeting, my wedding, a speech, and im thinking about it, nervous waves in the days before…on the day, oddly calm

today, its different…at ease making arrangements, calling the abattoir to organise times and procedures over the last week, im nervous, business like, focusing on making sure the lambs are relaxed

more friends than normal to ensure we corral them confidently, in one take

as usual, the longwool male, my favourite, lets me turn him over and separate him from the rest…im annoyed at his cooperation – i feel guilty at what seems like an odd deception

another chosen, both in the trailer, and the short journey starts

everything at the abattoir is efficient, impersonal but not unfriendly, and im grateful for it…everything seems ‘usual’; this happens allday everyday

perhaps its different elsewhere, but at the small, local abattoir we use theres a sense of process that stops short of conveyor-belting, that takes away any sense of hesitation, stops me prevaricating or retracting

only if you wait for the offal or skin do you really appreciate how quick, organised and how oddly caring this efficiency is…the skins go to salting and tanning to return as sheepskins, and we head home with the offal

coffee made, i walk to the polytunnel as i do everyday to catch butterflies, moths and dragonflies trapped and nodding against the plastic and release them from the prospect of a dessicated death