Little Pet Lamb

Further to yesterday’s blog

Maybe it’s because I identify as Welsh but, sheep have been a recurring motif in my life.

The field to the south of our garden at home was Glanrwyth farm’s nursery field where they put their ewes and newly born lambs.  January and February was accompanied by plaintive treble ‘baa’s from the lambs and reassuring bass ‘meh’s from their mothers.

The field to the north west was let out for grazing by Brynderi farm, sometimes heifers or bullocks but often sheep and older lambs.  Sometimes Dad would go out and mischievously whistle at them and they would rush about looking for the sheepdog.

There was seldom a time of year when I didn’t hear the sound of sheep, and I miss it.

Once in our teens, when I was up at OldestBestFriend’s, the flock her father was minding got out.  They found their way via the little back lanes to the A40 and the back yard of Dyffryn chapel.  We went down to help fetch them back.  There was OBF, her dad Tom and two corgi-collie cross dogs Judy and Bridget (named after OBF’s grandma).

“You go to the front and walk back to the farm” Tom instructed me “and they’ll follow you.  We’ll drive them from behind and make sure they don’t take any side roads.”

I was very dubious about it, but it actually worked.   

We made our way back to the farm; me at the front followed by the flock, who made no attempt to get past me, and OBF, Tom and the dogs behind them.

Being the youngest child of a Tyneside bred mother she often referred to me as “my little pet lamb”.  This went on well past childhood.  So much so that when I went to university and started writing letters home I would close with “lots of love from your little pet lamb Ben.”  This was soon abbreviated to “your LPL”, and was written on all Mother’s Day and birthday cards from me to her.  I believe I even put it on the label of the family wreath for her funeral.

 

When I turned twenty one my ‘official’ gift was a signet ring, but the parents also gave me a silly gift of a toy wooden and fleece sheep made at the local tannery in Rhosmaen.  Over time, what with typing and needlework and babies, my fingers got fatter and the signet ring was moved from my ring finger to my little finger.  My little finger has very smooth joints and the signet ring is lost.  But the sheep stays safe in my corner cupboard with others gifted by my siblings over the years.