What Makes Your Day?

The rain battered on the roof of the truck as I hastily clambered inside,

heaving the door closed with a relieved sigh.  The sturdy vehicle’s silver exterior is dull with green algae in places; much the same as house, buildings & indeed pretty much anything left even briefly static these days, with all the relentless moisture in the air.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                      /@?

I eased the bulky vehicle out of its parking space by the Dairy Complex & grimly set forth up the driveway.  The heavy rain had – yet again – tumbled another generous portion of the driveway’s fickle gravel surface down the hill; the wheels skidded & slid, trying to find purchase on the slippery slate beneath, deep ruts grooved all the way down the hill & occasional catchments of gravel adding extra frissance as the truck shuddered alarmingly each time it hit one. 

I managed to bounce the truck up to the top gateway, breathing a resigned sigh as I tumbled out into the face of the driving rain to open it.  The weekend’s usual workload will inevitably have to be put on hold as I desperately dig out the culverts at the roadside, trying to divert this seasonal tidal wave to flow elsewhere before the driveway becomes completely impassable to all but the most formidable vehicles.  We are seriously considering scraping the gravel surface off altogether; anything has to be better than this constant misery.

En route to my weekly Welsh lesson the roads were slick with slippery wet leaves although the beech trees edging the valley were resplendant in their last vestiges of autumnal glory. The River Teifi, although still mercifully well contained within its banks, was sluggish & brown, turbulent eddies whirling spittles of foam on the surface of the muddy water.

With only four of us attending today’s lesson we were able to achieve a sartisfying amount of progress; however, sadly it would appear that the more technically difficult the language is proving the more people are giving up: subsequently we’ll probably have to ‘double up’ with another class, next term.

On arriving home I leafed through the mail, gloomy at the usual pile of bills, bills & more bills.  But something caught my eye which was out of the ordianary – a small, pink envelope.  “Surely not a Christmas card already,” I groaned, anticipating the hectic Festive Season ahead & knowing full well that despite my best intentions I’d end up frantically scribbling feliciations on cards & hastily wrapping gifts at the eleventh hour as usual – quite literally. 

But on opening the envelope I discovered that it wasn’t a Christmas card I was holding, but a Thank You card.  Unaware of any specific good deeds & mystified as to the reason I’d received it, I opened it.  It was from one of our customers, who had travelled all the way from Bristol one weekend after reading about us in the Observer Magazine.  Having an intolerance to dairy produce but being a great lover of ice cream, she’d missed out on this tasty treat for a fair few years & was very excited to learn that at long last she would be able to enjoy it again. 

She & her partner had visited the farm & enjoyed a guided tour, learning more about the gelato, meeting the goats & particularly falling in love with the ever-affectionate Vine who insisted on posing for photos with them.  Spoilt for choice with the range of flavours, they bought plenty of pots of gelato & happily headed homewards with them (although I gather that much of the gelato didn’t make it that far – being consumed en route!), promising to return at kidding time & urging me to get my Mail Order service up & running, as soon as possible.  It was lovely to meet such a delightful couple & I’d felt really chuffed that at last, I’d achieved my goal – crafted something that brought a delighted smile to someone’s face. 

Happiness is....sharing a delicious ice cream with the kids!

Happiness is....sharing a delicious ice cream with the kids!

I wasn’t expecting a lovely card, though; in which apart from expressing sheer delight at the ice cream she even asked if I’d be happy for her to approach specialist food shops in her native Bristol to see if they’d stock it.  I was genuinely touched.  I immediately emailed her by return, sending some photos of the goat kids to whet her appetite for March when we anticiapte the first kids will be born. 

 

But I must say, this kind gesture of thanks really touched my heart – it truly made my day.

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About LittleFfarm Dairy

The LittleFfarm Dairy Team: Jo - Goat farmer & Gelatiere Artigianale, plus General Dogsbody; Tony - Airline Pilot & part-time Herd Manager, Product Taster, Accounts Secretary, Handyman etc!
This entry was posted in Dairy, Diary, Food, Goats, Ice Cream, Life, November 2008. Bookmark the permalink.

3 Responses to What Makes Your Day?

  1. casalba says:

    That would have made my day too. Isn’t it lovely when people put themselves out to say thanks?

    My husband is lactose intolerant, but luckily can still eat cheese and small amounts of ice cream. Maybe you could export here too. Or, would that be coals to Newcastle?

    Welsh is a difficult language. I’m half Welsh and half Ukranian – don’t ask! My dad remembers his mother ‘chatting’ with Bretons who came over selling wares.

  2. casalba says:

    Forgot to ask: where’s the link to the Observer magazine????

  3. LittleFfarm Dairy says:

    Yes, I was so touched by such a simple but kind gesture; it makes what we do here all worthwhile. Sorry to hear about your husband’s lactose intolerance, wish I could send some gelato over for you but it’d be a tub of milkshake by the time it arrived (delicious nonetheless – I’ve been there!).

    Hopefully it wouldn’t be ‘coals to Newcastle’ though as when we passed our final exams in Bologna we did so with ‘Above Average’ scores – so would certainly stand muster in good Italian gelaterias (phew!). I’m afraid I don’t think we’ll ever be big enough to export though – being a frozen product it’s cost-prohibitive.

    I’m just off to my last Welsh lesson of term – & yup, it is mightily difficult, probably the most challenging language I’ve tackled (& with a degree in Ancient History & Classical Archaeology, I’ve tackled many!).

    Fascinating family background you have; the comment about the Bretons doesn’t surprise me in a way as there are many similarities with the two languages. Welsh is probably one of the most ancient languages still spoken & as you know does contain a fair few ‘imports’, especially from the French with all the mercenaries who fought over here.

    So it’s given poor Tony a bit of a complex, as he’s very proud of his Welsh roots….but with a surname like Knight I suspect the family may not always have been of Welsh origin. And his Dad’s name is Norman although I’m sure that’s just coincidence too…. 😉

    Re the link to the Observer article, refer to my post dated 7th September 2008 for the pics; & for a more readable version of the script, if you click the Observer Article link in the Media Archive section on the RHS of this page, it’ll take you there – but please be aware, I’m sure we’re every bit as, err, eccentric as we sound therein….!!

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