Saturday, 3 September 2011

Hay Bales

The neighbour supplying me with apples owns a little field next to the apples, which has been slowly but plentifully culturing a splendid crop of ragwort and docs. We don't like to see our neighbours succeeding in such a way so we got Bryan to bale it so we could burn it. That's called Saboutage.

Pete's task today was to stack the bales into a pile in the middle of the field ready for burning. He was computering so I appointed myself as project manager, my first task to pester him until he came with me to start the job.

We got up there and Pete had a GENIUS idea. Of making a HOUSE out of them. They were really heavy but after much coaching, here is our hay house.

The next task was, sadly, burning it. We were going to chuck diesel on it but we'd run out. Dad and I wondered if petrol would work. Dad thought I should check with Bryan but I rang him and there was no answer. I wondered if we should just go for it and hope. Then I remembered who to ring in any situation. Famie.

Famie told me in her calm way that whatever we did, not to use petrol, cos it vapourises and you could explode yourself in a cloud of fuel. This was today's useful lesson, unusually for me, not learnt the hard way. Tell all your friends. Ok fine so you all knew. Hush.

So I went and got more diesel and Dad chucked it on and I lit it. That is, after turning round to my parents and asking for reassurance that it wouldn't just blow up when I made a spark (I saw a film last night where that happened. It was a gas pipe the baddie had chopped, but it was still in my mind). They said they didn't know. But that they didn't think so. Not especially reassured, I still went for it.

It burned. We went home.

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