With the arrival of a decent camcorder I was hoping to film some decent outdoor mud scenes over the weekend. But due to the typical Pennine summer weather, (torrential downpour and gale force winds) I'v been forced to wait a while till it subsides and the chances of mud induced hypothermia is less likely. I did however manage to get a video of Mud Mutt playing in the mud this morning, though I had to wipe the lense down a little every time the rain kept blurring the vision. I won't be posting the videos on here however as I'm not sure UMD has much call for Boxer dogs playing in mud.

There was one moment when Mud Mutt wiped his nose on the back of my jeans and smeared mud and drool down them and I lost my balance and ended up on my knees in the mud, but unfortunately the batteries had run out in the camera so I couldn't catch anything on video. It would have been a case of the video showing the grass, then the mud suddenly getting closer and eventually coming into contact with the lense but thankfully I saved the camera by holding it above my head and ended up with one arm up to my shoulder in mud and also the side of my face resting gently on the surface. I was not about to ask a random dog walker if they would mind using my phone to take a few snaps for pictorial evidence. Besides which the nearest one was more concerned about their Terrier being chest deep in mud with archie sniffing him over and inadvertantly pushing the poor ball of fluff deeper into it.

I had originally taken the camera home to my parents to get a few precious memories shots of Millie but she wasn't playing ball. She ignored the camera or resorted to disgusting doggy behaviours infront of the screen so I ended up filming some swallows flying around the garden. I also tried unsucessfully to catch Milly howling along to a bit of opera but no matter how loud I turned the volume on Katherine Jenkins, Mills just lay on her bed raising her eyebrows and flaring her nostrils.

One thing I like about my parents house is that it overlooks a throughbred stud farm at the back and has a view of up to a mile across the valley. The young guy who's mum owns the farm has taken to quad biking around the field a little way from our garden wall. I spent an unhealthy amount of time today watching him shooting round the dirt track he has created and an even unhealthier amount of interest in the state of the mud track. Due to the recent weather, the whole track is a quagmire of liquid mud and water and gave ample amusement for me watching him and his mate playing in it. At one point the quad got stuck in a puddle and his friend bravely volunteered to push him forward, though I imagine he was hoping to get out of the way before the throttle was hit. Unfortunately for him, the throttle went a little too early and he was engulfed in a flume of stagnant muddy water turning his white top and blue jeans dark brown. I saw him waddle out of the puddle trying to clean his eyes while the rider carried on oblivious to the devestation.

Having forty seven extremely large horses galloping and meandering about the fields behind one's house does tend to cause certain olfactory assualts at certain times of the year, especially during the muck spreading week, which always seems to coincide with a family babrbecue, or family party. There is quite literally a muck heap so big it looks like an additional yellow and brown hill at the far end of the field. Due to an arrangement whereby we can take as much manure for the garden as we like for free if we collect it ourselves, it gives me a chance to have a wander about in the mud and slush which surrounds it, usually when both the farmer and my parents are out. Then its a case of crossing the field and a quick dip in the river, then back up the field and into my garden. It also leads to some amusing situations. The 18 yr old son of the farmer, was not born to work with lifestock. He was born into a family who own it but he was not destined to live his life amongst them. It is evident in his behaviour and the horses response to him.

He has been bitten, knocked over and even kicked by horses and on several occassions sprawled face down in the gateway, and always during bad weather when the mud is at its worst. Its almost as though the horses know or have a sense of humour in their actions. My grandma, or Nanna as I have always called her, has spent her life living in a town and does not do well when visiting us in the countryside. Her confusion as to why Farmers always place their field gates in the muddiest part of the field has always been a talking point and also her belief that they also have hover mowers with extra long extension cables to keep the grass down since the animals only ever seem to congregate around the feeding trough.

The long suffering of the farmer's son for me is even more enjoyable because he is stunningly good looking, and whats worse, he knows it. Many a girl has been brought back to the farm to meet the animals and watch with great amusement as the animals plot and scheme as they see him approach. The longest lasting relationship ended when the girl slipped on a cow pat and whilst struggling to pull her up, he fell down on top of her. He, thinking it was a romantic moment, tried to kiss her, and as she thought he was making an advance on her in a prone position, kicked out at him in a way the farm stallion would be proud of and left him curled in the gateway clutching his privates while she flounced off. To make matters worse, a month old colt wandered over and nipped him sharply on the bum and then trotted off.

I havn't named the poor guy for obvious reasons though I have been riding with him and know him quite well. By that I don't mean I have ridden him, (though its not for want of trying) but that we have hacked out together on horses. Even then he struggles. I was always taught to communicate to the horse by gently squeezing with the calves of the legs and maintaining control through the reins whereas he seems to think the best way to make a horse move is to kick and whip the living crap out of it. Theres only so much of this a horse will take before they resort to the typical sudden handstand technique, flinging the rider headlong over the horses head and into whatever lies ahead, be it mud, water, concrete etc.

One of my favourite locations for mud is a farm track in Manchester which is frequently used for transport of cattle fodder by tractor which means that even in the hottest of summers there is always well churned mud to play in. It does unfortunately run alongside a golfcourse on one side and a field on the other so is quite open to the elements. Its also a popular dog walking area so its a case of jump in, jump out and hide, then jump back in when the coast is clear. Its also a popular area for gangs of chavs which has given me an idea for a few videos, which I have considered filming. Just a few little hidden booby traps alongside the mud and a well placed camera and hey presto. A mate of mine used to to drive me around in his car on summer evenings holding a super soaker filled with custard. When a gang of chavs were spotted on a street corner, we would slow down, wind down the window and spray them liberally with custard before shootting off leaving angry and shocked chavs, hurling abuse and threats at the back of the fast dissapearing car. We used to call it the Chav Attack. It paid them back for the abuse and threats most local normal people have to put up with at the time and the sight of custard covered chavs on a street corner used to raise spirits and make them aware that not everyone was willing to take their shit.

I have Gerbils! Just a random statement there but yes I now have three little gerbils in the house. Two girls and a boy so chances are I will have a few more in the coming weeks.

As to the weather, there is a downside in that it puts off mudding and wild swimming for me but the upside is that there is going to be a hell of a lot of mud to play in when the rain stops falling. At the time of writing, I stopped midway due to the clattering sound outside and looked out the back door to see not just heavy hail stones, but heavy hailstones actually laying on the ground. I toyed with the idea of going out and covering a few baby veg plants but in the end decided not to bother. I wouldn't mind but I have a photo shoot tomorrow and since I'v spent the last week cleansing and toning, not to mention tanning, the last thing I need is to slip on my arse and end up spraining or breaking something. This is a shoot which involves my exotic animal handling so unfortunately no gunge this time, though I will be filming a hair washing video with a bit of top straight female totty in the afternoon for all those bi or straight guys out there who like seeing nice hair getting washed.