Quarter of a bucket

I was successful, to a certain degree, in milking a couple of goats this morning. I woke up at 6 to help Melissa, and it was fine. I haven't been sleeping well at all since I've been here, so I was happy to get up. Elly and Jenny told me later in the day that it might be because my mattress is not a mattress, but a wooden support for a mattress, the lower part of a bed. That would explain the back aches.
The farm is very rustic indeed, and calling it rustic is being nice. I just thought I should mention some interesting things that I've just taking as normal by now, but which were quite difficult to adapt to. This is not me bitching about the place, as I'm happy to be living on the rough side for a bit, but I just thought it'd be amusing for you to read. So, the living room constantly smells of goat, nothing can alter the odour. The first night we were all smoking quite heavily in there, and it changed nothing; the living-room kept smelling of goat in the morning. There are also these long sticky slips of paper that hand from the ceiling to catch flies. They're everywhere in the house, inclusive the unlucky multitude of flying insects gathered for maybe centuries? There is one directly above the breakfast table. If this wasn't enough to put you off your bread in the morning, there seems to be an unconditional love for animals in this place. The various dogs and cats are allowed in the kitchen at all times, given dishes to lick clean, fed the scraps off our plates while we're still at the table, and allowed to eat/lick any spillages. The cat got onto the kitchen surface the other day and ate the surface of a quiche Jenny had lovingly made. This quiche was then eaten by everyone as if nothing had happened. Talk about hygiene.
We've just been chatting to Michel, the Belgian man. He'd had quite q few glasses of wine throughout the afternoon and was proving a lot of the entertainment this evening. Jenny was explaining how in the States they call the bathroom the restroom, and I translated it, 'ou tu peux te relacher', 'where you can rest/relax'. He found this absolutely hilarious and started imitating people at the toilet, relaxing their bowels, as it were. We've just retreated into out little room, while he's decided to take a piss against the wall before heading back to his camping car.
He says he's not going to stay here long as he doesn't feel our host is particularly warm towards her helpers. It's true. But at least we've got each other. I'd hate it if I were here on my own. The plus side is that you do get to get involved in the making of the cheese and in the milking etc. So I guess you can't have everything every time.
Tomorrow she's off to sell her produce at a local market, so Jenny and I are in charge in the cheese room, which will be fun. We bought some pain au chocolat in a market today, which we will savour for breakfast, as we didn't get a meal this evening.
Stay tuned!