This peak, however, only lasted about four hours due to my wayward cows, and this is the story of how my moment in the spotlight came shattering down. So buckle in, hopefully you will find my downfall entertaining.
I received an emotional phone call that morning from my grandparents and was flying high on making more of my relatives cry though my writing - shoddy or heartfelt, you be the judge. It is also something I strangely enjoy.
If you remember, at the time, we were still massively behind with drilling and on that day my dad had our telehandler away from the farm. Our farm truck had also blown up that morning so my options for what I could do regarding the cattle that afternoon were limited.
I decided to try and get myself extra brownie points by turning a few young heifers out to graze at my grandparents' house. So, I set to, having to carry the heavy race gates across the yard by hand, getting set up and putting our trailer on a tractor I had in the yard. I picked out the 11 heifers, loaded, drenched them for worms and even treated one with a bad eye single-handedly, which is no mean feat I will have you know.
I get to my grandparents', which, let me just inform you, had been newly fenced, and not just any fencing either, this was sheep netting with two strands of barbed wire on top. I am thinking nothing can go wrong.
I unload the girls and everything is serene for two minutes. And then the girls went absolutely crazy. This was nothing new to me. Quite often when turning youngstock out for the first time ever it is like their brains just explode with the space. They set off running, tails in the air, and I'm thinking, nah, they will bounce back off the new fence. Well, ladies and gentlemen, I was wrong. Very wrong indeed because four of the heifers had launched themselves through in three separate corners of said field.
There were 30 seconds in which I just stood in the middle of the field, trying to decide which way to run first, as surrounding my grandparents are a motorway, dual carriageway and public footpaths.
But after that, I was pelting after them and calling my dad for back-up at the same time. Every neighbour on the smallholding came to try and help, which is lovely, but also slightly embarrassing.
I managed to get three of the runaways back in, narrowly avoiding them destroying the extensive glasshouses by the time my dad got there. At this point, the heavens opened and the lovely sunny day turned into torrential rainfall.
Luckily someone had managed to catch our remaining runaway in a paddock, but their fencing would be no match for her. Everyone who has ever handled beef cattle will tell you the worst situation to be in is to have a stressed animal on its own. She was going nuts.
At first, we tried to run her back the way she came but that wasn't working, so we decided to try loading her. We got set up so she would have to run around a corner and just hit the trailer, which she did, and it's safe to say my dad is still Usain Bolt in wellies, as he was right behind her.
We fixed the fence before letting her back out, all in the pouring rain. My nan met us at her door with a cup of tea each and a jumper for me as I was soaked to the bone. I was one rather defeated human and knew I had definitely lost the favourite grandchild title after the stress of the day.
However, never fear, I have moved on to my other grandmother, and after managing to get her on The Repair Shop, I think I may have succeeded, but that's a story for next time.