Last night, I had a shocking taste of my own medicine. The farm, you see, is almost entirely fenced with single strand electric wires.

These “hot wires” are kinder than barbs, low-cost and flexible. And while they are also less vulnerable to floods, the trio we had recently left our fences in a state of disarray. I have snipped the connections to all non-essential sections in order to keep the power up to the core and am going around fixing paddock by paddock ahead of the cows.

At the same time, Alex at 13 months is getting heavy. With 12 kgs of wriggling toddler on my chest, fencing work is becoming something of a challenge, so I decided to trial him on my back.

I ended up with an extra burden of mother guilt. Suffice to say, I am not used to crawling under electric fences with an extra load “up top”. Zap!

That horrid sensation of pulsing muscles hit me just as I crept tentatively under a fence. It must have connected with Alex on the carrier but he didn’t seem to notice at all, as he carried on with his babbling, happy as a lark while mum staggered to her feet.

Glad none of the cows were watching!