...they come not single spies, but in battalions - yes it’s been one of those weeks.

FMD (Foot & Mouth) has reared its ugly head again – indeed it never really went away; languishing unnoticed in a herd of cattle in leafy suburban Egham - and the onerous movement restrictions on livestock are in place again. However, unlike last time when we were all busy harvesting corn and hay and the cattle and sheep were happy to be left sunning themselves in the summer pastures, this time we are into the hectic Autumn season and the restrictions will really begin to bite.

To give you one small ‘for instance’; September always heralds the main ram sales when the pedigree breeders will fill the livestock markets with young rams to service the nation’s ewes.

You need approximately one ram for every 40 females and as the old saying goes - “a young ram and an old bull will keep the farmyard full”. Hardly Shakespeare this time, but very true nonetheless; and we were hoping to purchase a couple of young studs to boost our pack of aging gigolos. Last year we had a vary pleasant time at the massive National Sheep Association’s sale in Wales. Thirty three breeds, twenty auction rings, thousand of rams from every corner of the country to choose from and a turnover in excess of £2m in a few hours of light hammer work.

With a total ban on livestock movements where or how are we to get the extra rams we need? How about the larger, more commercial farmers, who bring in fresh blood every year??  You can’t buck the laws of nature – no rams = no lambs. And finally what about the ram breeders who depend on the autumn sales for a large slice of their yearly income???

And this is the story right across the livestock sector. The financial and animal welfare issues of a lengthy movement ban are going to be huge and given the persistence of the disease, exactly how long will the total movement ban need to be in place this time to be effective?

Perhaps even more disquieting, is the news in the farm press was that as this particular strain of FMD was being developed as a vaccination it is possible that it is not even contagious. That’s right – you heard correctly – this strain cannot be passed from animal to animal, but reaches each of the farm affected by ‘environmental means’ (whatever that means!).

It could be that the total movement ban will all be in vain. That is until yesterday, when the first ever diagnosed case of the dreaded Bluetounge was confirmed in a highland cow near Ipswich. This new disease has caused havoc with our European neighbours and once in a herd or flock it can cause up to 70% losses.

If all this wasn’t enough; whilst out for a ride on the moors, our youngest dog Maggie chased a rabbit onto the road and under the wheels of a (thankfully) slow moving Discovery. Despite some very nasty bruising, she seems to have survived intact and I was up to check on her during the night when we were all woken up by the sound of a goose being massacred in the field behind the house!

Due to a mix up in communications between the kids, the geese had not been put away and Mr Fox had taken the opportunity to strike. 4.00am saw me and Cathy – in our dressing gowns – putting the rest of the geese away before slaughtering by torchlight the poor unfortunate victim of the attack; all ready for plucking in the morning. It’s weeks like these that make it all seem worth while!

With almost two weeks of dry weather now and we have been able to catch up all of the farm jobs and even squeeze in a couple of days camping in the Forest of Dean.

With the dry weather predicted (correctly for once) well in advance by the Met Office I had already lined up all of the contractors for the hay and silage and we only had one last bout of rain on Monday the 20th to get through. But, oh boy, did it tip down. By mid-day the smallest Yurt had flooded and had to be evacuated and the campsite gateways were beginning to resemble Glastonbury. And then, like a tap, it stopped and the sun came out. By that evening the campers had begun smiling again, on Tuesday we cut a field for hay and on Thursday the big mowers came in to lay down 25 acres for silage.

Making hay in what is in effect early autumn is hard going. The days are shorter, the sun is cooler, the crop is heavier, and the mist and dew mean that there is only a few precious hours drying in each day. After six days of turning, the hay was just about fit to bale and thanks to an heroic effort by the whole family we managed to get it safely stowed away in the barn just in time to tackle the big bales on Monday.

Trying to shift 200 odd big round bales 3 miles up the road on a bank holiday Monday whilst there is a fun-day taking place in the village (with no other route for our trailers) was always going to be stressful. However, again with full credit to the team, we limped in at dusk with the bales all wrapped. A damage report revealed one knackered clutch, a snapped loader and my own John Deere unable to lift another bale due to lack of hydraulic oil.

A well earned break seemed in order; and so we packed up the tents and bikes and headed north to the Forest of Dean where my sister and her tribe reside in the heart of the woods.

This, I thought, would be a excellent chance to try out our recently purchased tandem that one of our neighbours had propped outside their house for £165 ovno. This had been to good to resist, and on the third passing I had knocked on the door and the appropriate number of notes had changed hands.

I don’t know if Mr Tandem had intended to invent a mechanical metaphor for marriage when he welded two old bike frames together - but that is just what he did. When you are in tune with your loved one (behind you of course, on the back seat), life fairly zips by with the minimum of effort. You are more than a match for any lone(ly) cyclist as the sum of your four legs, two hearts beating as one, and a magnificent machine is an unbeatable combination.

However, hit a bumpy patch and it can all go horribly wrong. You want to peddle – your better half doesn’t. You want the high road – she fancies the low. And after 10 miles, when the legs begin to ache and the seat feels like a lump of badly carved oak, little cracks and strains can begin to surface. All in all though, a wonderful contraption, and an excellent way to explore the many trails the forest had to offer.