Philip Duncan, my go to weather guru, said the polar boundary was going to creep up over us early this week.

He wasn’t joking.

We’ve had an energetic Spring, he said.

That’s one way of putting it.

When the wind swung round to sou’west last night and the rain started in earnest, I knew we had to move the sheep. The paddock we’d relocated them to is great – except when the wind’s sou’west.

You’d think they’d be happy we’d donned our wet weather gear and headlamps to give them a break from the overnight wind, rain and sleety snow but any shred of gratefulness had definitely disappeared this morning.

“Turn this weather off!” Yasmin demanded, like I’d chosen it. Not likely.

I thought I’d hauled my last load of firewood for the year; that I thought Id coaxed my poor, dilapidated work boots through their last drenched paddock trudge.

Right now, you’ll have to excuse me. I’m off to change my socks and turn on the heat pump.