It may be bank holiday weekend for some of us but farmers certainly don’t work a 9 till 5… Here’s another great short story thanks to farmer Brindley Hosken…
Farming in Meneage
I reach out from the bed, scat over the lamp; knock over a book and at last stop that infernal din. My heart is racing and all my nerves are jangling. I look at the clock. 3 o clock 3 o clock, what does that mean? Oh yes, I have got to look at a cow. My aim now is not to totally wake up if I can avoid it. So I walk with eyes half closed and mouth open in zombie mode.
When I get to the cow she is already calving, I get the calving aid and with a bit of a struggle take the calf. By now I am wide-awake and on the way in I have a look at the stars. The North Star is right where it should be and the Plough is tilted at an angle. (It does that in the middle of the night you know.)
I get back into bed 3:30. Two and a half hours more sleep, lovely. My body is whacked (knackered) but my mind is wide-awake and it decides to play, ”I wonder.”
I wonder why do I like that song by The Manic Street Preachers but I can never remember how it goes. Bom bom de bom. No that’s not it.
I wonder why is it that BP can pollute the Gulf for three months but I am not allowed to burn a bit of plastic.
I wonder if I give 60 pints of blood and give a load of firewood to the Young Farmers for charity does that make me a good Samaritan or should I send some money to Shelterbox as well.
6 o clock, time to get up. I bring the cows in and turn the radio on; it’s the Manic Street Preachers singing, “It’s not war, just the end of love”. THAT’S how it goes. I turn the radio up loud and as I put the units on I join in with the chorus, ITS NOT WAR JUST THE END OF LOVE. Another day Another dollar!