This is the shirt that had to be left on the lawn because it was too dirty for the laundry. Check out the collar. He was wearing it when it became…soiled. Imagine the man.
Me: “So, who got you? Was it 1257 or 800?”
Him: “I don’t know – it was too quick, I was blinded and they were firing at me from all directions – in front and behind.”
Me: (Trying desperately not to laugh) “What did you do?”
Him: “I groped about and found something really thick and thought, ‘Great, that’s a hose’ and just blasted myself with the fire hose for a few minutes. And a few minutes later, another one got me from behind and it flowed down over my eyes before I could stop it, so I don’t know who that was either.”
Me: “Oh, you poor thing. But you seem in good spirits…”
Him: “Yeah. I decided that s#$t happens, so I might as well just take a break and have a drink. I peeled off my shirt, hosed myself down again, had that drink, and milked like this.”
Me: “What – in the nude?”
Him: (Indignantly) “With my shorts and gumboots on! I added an apron when the tanker arrived in case I scared the driver.”
Me: Raucous laughter.
Him: “Feel my hair”
Me: “Ah, no thanks.”
Him: “Go on, feel it…Don’t look at me like that…Okay, smell it then.”
Me: “It smells like Ovaltine – go and have a shower, for goodness’ sake.”
Milking cows certainly has its moments and there were quite a few of those “moments” for Wayne because now that the grass has pretty much shrivelled up, the cows have been dining on a divine, juicy crop of rape and tender young millet. Never mind, it’ll settle in a day or two…