Well, not so much fever as all-over muscle pain and stiffness.
The problem with playing farmhand for the few days per year it takes to gather hay from the fields is that I’m not used to it. Driving a tractor, throwing bales of hay onto a trailer and speaking in a ridiculously affected West country accent for no good reason is great fun for the first 20 minutes – then I start to realise that spending the rest of the year working at a desk isn’t the best preparation for it and by the end of the day I’m perversely grateful for the cold spring that’s reduced this year’s growth.
I promise not to moan about having to mow the lawn until, ooh, at least next week.
German Word For Today: “Heuschrecken” - to be scared of dried grass
Song playing as this was published: Elvis Costello - “Shipbuilding”
But didn’t it give you a nice country tan, and weren’t there nice rubicund maids helping out and pouring you refreshing glasses of, say, scrumpy as you swept the sweat from your bronzed brow? You want to to give up this scientific lark for good. Go into wheat.
A country tan - you mean brown arms where my shirt was rolled up to my elbows, but white everywhere else, don’t you? And although there was a refreshing paucity of buxom maids, more sadly tall, lithe brunettes weren’t in attendance either. There were several very muscular men who found it absurdly amusing to watch me bouncing bales of hay on my thighs and then trying to throw them up to the top of the trailer, only to have said bale and several others fall on top of me.
It’s idyllic the countryside you know?
That’s PRECISELY the type of tan I meant, with a big, ruddy face to match. The very muscular men have distracted me, but also reminded me that when I was a sixth-former and working for agencies in holiday periods, I one day worked as a bin-man with Sid, Cyril and George, who all three talked about how their fathers died in their arms. They advised me to slip the bin, weighing 20 tonnes, onto my shoulder and then tip it into the back of the truck, which I couldn’t do, obviously. My career as a bin-man was short-lived.
WOnderful, In-Act in countryside version, I bet you were the sexiest überhaupt!! About the tan: just get out of that shirt and show the world your appealing body
BiB: You didn’t mean “with a delicately moisturised, wearing factor 20 suncream face to match” do you? I really aren’t cut out for this physical outdoor work nonsense….
And the agency wanted you to be a bin-man? Now I am jealous, I got sent to dairies and potato-packaging centres which lead to lots of conversations along the lines of;
“Now, when the sack has ten 5kg bags of potatoes in it, pick it up and…. No, pick it up! Pick it up! Put some effort into it! Oh for god’s sake! Can you type?”
Lisa: “The sexiest überhaupt? Appealing body“? I’m not sure whether I should blush or laugh! And whilst I might be trying to get a “not-just-forearms” tan now, not wearing a shirt and throwing bales of hay around would have shredded my skin - it’s scratched enough as it is.
“it’s scratched enough as it is.” Oh yes? Sounds like there’s a story there! My guess is that your trips to London have been spent in the same private members’ clubs as previously frequented by Jamie Theakston and Frank Boff. Am I right?
Hey - I couldn’t find an email address for you, so I’ll leave this as a comment:
Thanks for participating in past Language Weeks! The next one is coming up soon. Information is here: http://www.srah.net/weblog/archives/2006/07/behold_language_week_4_electri.php
You should have enlisted the help of Devon Boy!
Brunettes can be buxom, with the right bra. As for the moisturiser, I’m shocked. I bet you exfoliate. Is that what you mean by scratches?
David: No, no you’re completely misunderstand, frequent the same kind of club as Theakston and Bough? I have standards you know.
Haddock: It’s an idea, but the problem is that he’d have wanted to be fed afterwards and money’s a bit tight for someone with his appetite.
INOAP: Exfoliate? What do you think I am, a man or a (snake of some kind that starts with the letter m)?
Mambo.