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Category: Tractors

Big Jo And The Aisle of Doom

Big Jo And The Aisle of Doom

For the past month, I’ve been trying my best to get everything ready for winter. I’m not exactly sure what that really means in the country, but I’m pretty sure something important needs to be done. Back in the suburbs it was taking down the mosquito screens, tidying up the garden a bit and getting the furnace checked. Out here, I’ve got a gargantuan pile of uncut wood stacked accusingly beside the house which despite my fervent expectation, hasn’t been…

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Filthy Lucre and the Lost Art of Chicken Herding

Filthy Lucre and the Lost Art of Chicken Herding

For as long as I can remember, I’ve liked money. To be more specific, I’ve liked being given money. Now of course, everyone likes being handed cash. Unless you’re Richard Pryor in Brewster’s Millions, there aren’t many people who would say “oh no, I’ve actually been trying to get rid of a stack of fifties for bloody days. Can’t seem to give it away, mate. Pray keep your money, for I need it not.”   Unfortunately, I’ve done some fairly embarrassing…

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The AgriEase Mower That Couldn’t

The AgriEase Mower That Couldn’t

I remember being about thirteen or fourteen years old and getting really upset because I couldn’t miraculously do something by instinct in my Dad’s garage workshop. What that something was is lost in the murk that’s become my sleep-deprived memory, but I never forgot that as I slammed down the tools in a proper teenage huff, my Dad repeated the old adage: “A bad workman always blames his tools.” Now, I’ll be the first to admit I’m not gifted when it comes…

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Tractors and Tornados

Tractors and Tornados

It’s been an odd kind of day. My eldest son turns 6 this week and we’re planning him a birthday party on the land. But since we don’t really have a house yet, Emma had the imaginative idea to make it an adventure party. After all, what good is 100 acres if you can’t use it to occupy twenty kids under six? The big “bottom field” on the land has been used for hay in the past and is really…

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Real Men and The Chicken God

Real Men and The Chicken God

As a boy growing up in the 70s and 80s there were certain indicators of a privileged life. The first was that you had a Tonka toy. Not one of the modern mostly-plastic jobs. No, we’re talking the steel-plate, scaled down construction-grade dump trucks, diggers or cat-tracked beasts. Real toys for real men’s sons. But now I’m a father, I know the truth. Those toys were bought not just for their earth-trembling awesomeness in the sand-pit, but because as Dads,…

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Chicks and hogs

Chicks and hogs

This weekend was supposed to be all about the chicks. Last time I said that in any seriousness was back in ’94 at university and if I’m being honest, both my best mate Stephen Hayward and I knew we were most likely going to finish the evening unaccompanied at 3AM, walking home via the 24hr petrol station to buy a jumbo packet of onion-ring flavoured crisps, two Gingster’s pies with dubious meat fillings and 40 Marlboro Lights to chain smoke…

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