There was Bert, enjoying a rare solitary evening, no me (for I was on Matty duties), only three good dogs and two good pigs to share his barbecued sea bream, baked potatoes and cider as he sat by the brai on one of the balmiest evenings of 2010.
But hark! Here is the sound of a Massey Ferguson coming up the lane. Sadly not Hector's, for Hector would not disturb Bert's reverie. No. It is Buzz Killington, otherwise known as Clint, on his new tractor. Clint - a man with no concept of relaxation or enjoyment, Clint who'd work a two-minute silence, Clint and his bloody dog - both of them go-go-go, for Clint has tractors to drive and Lucy her tail to catch.
What are ye sitting idling there for? There's barley straw to be got from up the road. C'mon now for it'll not get itself home!
I'm only getting a bite of supper.
Humph! I've mine in me long ago. I see you're at the drink again. I hope you're fit to drive!
I've only had half a glassful... the pigs...
You're giving those pigs drink! That'll do them a lot of good!
Sure if you seen the way they shape their wee mouths for me to pour it in. And the way they gaze up at me. It's so cute.
Not near wise. Your head's cut. C'mon! Let's get going!
Sadly Bert had only a few more mouthfuls of fish and a drop of cider to wash it down, then abandoned his lovely evening, looked sadly at the pigs and they at him. He trudged off in Clint's wake. That straw won't bring itself home y'know!
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