Miss Picky Pants.

 We were all sitting having breakfast yesterday when dad asked if I wanted to do a bit of grass cutting. Yes of course, I said with great enthusiasm, if you show me how. It's weeks since I did any proper tractor work.

On hearing my reply Eric jumped back like I'd just poked him with a stick.

"Hark at miss picky pants here! I thought farmin' was to messy for you these days." 

Of course he was only pulling my leg.

"Get lost!" I told him.

He just laughed and went on about he would rather be seeing to sheep lambing than falling asleep going round in circles on a tractor all day. 

The cutting job was cutting down the long grass growing on the verges down our lane and around the edges of the field tracks. Because I was working on a public road I had to use an old tractor as the one I usually use has a passenger seat installed so for some strange reason, which is known only to some pen pusher somewhere, if a tractor as a passenger seat fitted I can't drive it on my provisional license without instruction. Yet I can use the old tractor that's never had a second seat fitted okay. Everything is the same, just no second seat fitted. Figure the logic behind that one if you can.

So after breakfast yesterday we put on the cutter, which is a different one to that which we got out of the shed the day before. This cutter is just for the rough work. Then Eric took me up the road and pointed out a couple of fire hydrant markers that were difficult to see in the log grass. Then he showed me how to go on with the cutter. It was simple enough. Just put it in to gear, push the revs up and then pick it up and put it down as and when. Also avoid obstacles such as electric poles and concrete fire hydrant markers etc.

So for the past two days I have been doing that and it's been brill!