I did the first of the autumn hedge-trimming jobs today –
the tall one at the bottom of the garden. 2½ hours of much stretching, some
climbing of a precarious ladder that was trying to fall into the hedge, and
sometimes both in uncomfortable combination. Neither my frozen shoulder nor my
system in general are best friends with me at the moment.
The big, tough, field boundary ones can wait a few weeks.
Fortunately, there isn’t as much ladder work with those, now that I get Farmer
Sillitoe Jnr to do the majority of the work with his tractor-mounted
hedge-trimming machine.
* * *
Overheard conversation between two farmers:
‘I reckon the problem’s all these foreigners coming in.’
‘Aye, I reckon you’re right.’
‘There’s a woman moved in across from me, and I can’t
understand a bloody word she says.’
‘Ah?’
‘Ah.’
‘Where does she come from?’
‘Dunno. Devon, I think.’
The above is based on an actual conversation, although a
small amount of literary licence is admitted.
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