If I was blogging à la Mr. Englishman I’d have labelled this as ‘live tractorblogging’, or something. However, north of Wiltshire it appears to be called “Stop effin’ about wi’ that machine and ‘elp us get these last bales on wagon before it pisses down, yer soft bugger“-blogging.
Usually, after the job is finished a certain amount of healthy fluid-replacement occurs, but this year, not just the weather has put a dampener on things. Still, at least everyone has great confidence in the way DEFRA usually handles things.
Song playing as this was published: Falco - Coming Home
ah! the beauty of simple life!
How I’d love giving up most things for it!
Er… is that actually your hay?
Narziss: That said, I’m glad I just ‘have’ to do that kind of work for a few days per year. It’s all very well romanticising the countryside, but it’s a very full-time job that I’m not sure I’d manage 365 days a year…..
James: Have you been talking to my sister? Did she put you up to ask? Okay, now technically, it belongs to the farmer to whom I let the fields, but in return for me giving him a hand once per year, my sister gets enough hay for her horse and I get paid slightly less rent. A great deal, no?
Mr.Fact: surely you can multitask doing double-headed tadpoles by day and a bit of sheep rustling by night?
Gives me freakin’ nightmares of my own childhood.
I know…i agree…
but nonetheless, romanticising about it has its own charm
RB: Of course, of course, but when will I have time to blog?
820: Oh God yeah. As a child I was tasked with raking together all the hay in the fields that the combine had missed. It was somewhat tiring. I suspect you had more acres as well.
Narziss: Okay, we’ll agree on good for the soul. Very occasionally.