PURELY coincidently we had taken down the last sign from the farm entrance warning people to keep out, received a visit from a couple of strangers wanting to go metal detecting and heard the news about the threat of another outbreak of foot and mouth disease.

The signs are back up. Fortunately the suspected outbreak remained only that, a suspicion. A vigilant vet has reminded us that we need to remain alert. It would be too easy to go back to the old ways of leaving entrances open but we cannot afford to do it any longer.

I was surprised how hostile I felt to the metal detecting men. They were perfectly friendly. Showed me their limited liability insurance, gave me their identities. I think the hostility was linked to a feeling of being threatened by outsiders, something that has never bothered me before and certainly never did before the foot and mouth epidemic.

After a year of keeping strangers out, it is difficult to suddenly let them back in again. Added to this was the fact that John was away and I had to fob the strangers off about his not being there to answer their questions without revealing his absence. With a yard full of cars, Bryony, Chris, Matthew and Jo were all home for the weekend, I was hardly on my own, but I cannot get over how strangers suddenly turning up at my back door has bothered me. Fortress farms from now on.

John's fishing trip took place amazingly quickly after his return from our holiday in Cyprus. That man leads a life of leisure. He does need a bit of solitude before the end of the month though. We are gearing up for lambing and when that starts he will have very little time for himself for about six weeks.

With Bryony, our daughter, over half way through her pregnancy, the impending birth of one species or another is starting to dominate our lives. I have been initiated into the mysteries of baby travel systems. No more big prams. I thought when Bryony was born and my mum bought me a lift-off pram that could go in the back of the car that advances had been made from the chassis-built pram.

Now the word pram does not exist. This baby will go straight from a lift-up, bucket type car seat into a pushchair. Plus every type of co-ordinated accessory is required, from matching foot muff to rucksack.

"I remember..." I keep droning on.

"Yes, I know mother," she replies, "I slept in a drawer, etc, etc; no money, etc, etc; steaming nappies hanging off every surface, etc, etc. Well things have changed."

They certainly have. The fluffy piles of Zorbit nappies that I have cherished from the time that Jo was potty trained are apparently destined as dusters. It's disposables from now on. I had made the transition from nighties to babygros, which horrified my mum, but I cannot get over what an industry babies are now. As Bryony was a month premature I had not got round to getting any baby clothes before she was born there was literally a list of clothes to get sent out from the hospital. Fitted wardrobes are going into this baby's nursery already.

I am thrilled though. At last allowed to churn on about the baby, John is seriously worried about how overboard I might possibly go. He must not worry. Jo is at my other elbow directing me to wedding dress try-ons, tiara trials, veil visits...

No wonder he's gone fishing.

Updated: 11:12 Thursday, March 14, 2002