One of my pleasures at this time of the year is watching big bits of kit at work in the fields. And avoiding them on the road. This afternoon I came across a huge New Holland combine harvester coming down the hill from my village on a narrow lane that was about a foot less in width than the yellow monster. There was simply nowhere scratch-free to go, so I made for the ditch and Mr. New Holland neatly combined a twenty yard stretch of hedgerow. We both made sympathetic gestures at each other. He probably guessed (quite rightly) that country boy though I am I never get my hands dirty unless I put the black ink cartridge into the printer upside down. This picture was taken in the Lyveden Valley in Northamptonshire as my neighbour lurched around the field doing something with bales of straw. We were regularly distracted from our respective pursuits by his extremely perceptive wife arriving every half hour with ice cold Stellas, placed like fairground targets on the bonnet of the Landrover.
Sunday Poem 221
17 hours ago