Hay cut ready tedding, rowing up and baling.
“Lovely sunny weather ahead, dust off the barbecues”.
That’s what the weather forecasters said during our hourly, obsessive, compulsive updates. They must be right with all that multi million pound, state of the art equipment and expertise.
Sod the barbecue, sod getting my middle aged body ‘beach ready’, farmers generally don’t holiday in summer and the body MOT would take longer than Brexit negotiations to be beach ready!
So we got out the mower, replaced the blades, greased it up and with a bit of instruction from ‘hubby’s bedside consultancy’ and a fab neighbouring farmer off we went to mow a meadow.
“Light showers” they said, “No more than 4 mm” ….really? We have now cut 15 acres of hay for it to be rained on and drenched. I now understand why the bedside consultant used to shout “lying bastards, that’s not what you said yesterday” at the TV weather forecast. Mike regularly shouted at the forecasters, anybody on the footpath going past the house will have wondered about the state of our marriage…
James (lovely stepson) and I have never been permitted to mow before. Well, not exactly true, we both did it once. It was declared ‘not up to standard’ by you know who so were allocated menial tasks befitting our lowly status. Oh how I now wish we’d both paid more attention, its all come back to haunt us, reminiscent of the times I drifted off in maths lessons at school.
So, we have cut the hay. First field went OK apart from a few lumps where mower was a bit low, second field went even better which was a bloody miracle as James has a social life (whatever that is?) and wanted to be prepared for the ladies and not smelling of parfum de cattle shed. Oh what it is to be young.
The baler and wrapper contractors will be in later today. I managed to sort this with numerous phone calls before they consider enforcing a restraining order for harassment. But will it all come right or are we going to be eating a tin of dog food in front of a one bar electric fire by the end of the year?
Ploughing mashed potato 