This morning, after taking care of the chores around the farm with his wife and son, a client of mine arrived back at the house for a quick clean up before heading into town. He ducked to the bathroom while the family took a load off their feet and made a cuppa.
Shortly, my farmer mate joined his family in the kitchen, a towel wrapped around his waist.
“No water,” he told his wife and son. “The pumps not working.”
Despite not having a shower he changed into his good shirt, trousers and shoes and drove everyone down to the creek on the tractor.
Turned out, to fix the pump, someone needed to walk into the creek. Unfortunately for this unlucky person the thermometer registered 1 degree this morning. As my mate watched from the tractor a heated argument broke out on the banks of the creek as his missus and their boy ‘discussed’ who was going in. In the end, Rock Scissors Paper decided and his wife lost. She needed to wade in till the water met her belly button - and then bend over.
“My wife would have pushed me in the creek," I told him. "Roughly." I didn't say she'd have laughed while she was at it, but anyone who knows Tracey would see this as a given. "How the hell did you get away with her going in instead of you?"
"I was sitting on the tractor in my town clothes," he said, matter-of-factly.
"So your advice is ‘always overdress for the occasion’?” I asked.
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