…while the sun shines. It’s been gorgeous this week, and DAMN, have we been making hay. Many tonnes of it, actually.
It’s been interesting, veryvery physical, exhausting, and a lot of fun. All the fields were mowed, and then the first day I worked on putting bales onto the flatbed. Then loft duty, which wasn’t as fun, even with breathing masks. Dinners were served by the owner’s wife in their huge second (!) kitchen, everyone gathered around a long wooden table, all tucking in to the same huge plates of steak pie, peas, potatoes, gravy. I felt like a farmhand. (And what I want to know is, if this work is so damn hard, why do I know so many fat farmers?)
I always have this sense of being a part of history when I’m at the stable, walking Kip out to the pastures along the lane that horses have walked down for many, many years, and never more so than the last few days. Especially when Phil accidentally broke the conveyor thing that moves the bales up to the loft, as after that everyone was working under pure muscle power, passing the bales up from one to another. Us smaller people were up in the top of the loft, balanced on high, shaking walls of hay, placing the last bales under the eaves. It’s been wonderful.
I did tell Phil, however, that since we were being paid a bale every half hour (making about £4 an hour), I was going to be feeding Kip precious small handfuls of the hay. lol…”You’d better enjoy this, considering how hard I worked for it. This better be the best goddamn hay you EVER ate!” ;)
The old Victorian barns were a bit scary…everywhere in the loft floor where there were big holes, they dragged a door or something over that area. “Try not to fall in here.” Yikes!
We’re going again tonight, so it will be another night of finally finishing when it’s too dark to do any more, eating the big farmhand servings of meat, and then driving home to sit in a stupor for a bit before going up to bed. Last night I fell asleep sitting straight up, holding a glass of wine! I woke up when it spilled all over me, vastly amusing Phil.
Off we go…I’ll try not to fall into a baling machine. :)