A Cloudy Spillage!

Posted on August 3, 2013 by The Baldock Bard.

This morning the clouds have a reddish hue overlaying dark! It seems strange to me that something so obviously physical is just a collection of water droplets that you can fall through (if unlucky) and fly through (if lucky!). It is little wonder that early man thought it was home to the Angry Gods that warned people with thunder and smote the wicked with lightening. However this morning’s colour looks remarkably like tractor diesel…

Looking up,
At the clouds,
This morning,
0530 hours,
(Army time).
It looked as if,
Someone up there,
Had spilt red diesel,
On the clouds,
When filling,
A heavenly tractor!
The Environment Agency,
Won’t like that,
At all.
God is in,
For a hefty fine!

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Damn Nosey Farmers!

Posted on August 2, 2013 by The Baldock Bard.

Driving back from Ramsay yesterday evening, I spied tell-tale dust coming from the side of the road near Abbots Ripton, Cambridgeshire. A combine was working away on a field of Winter Barley. The straw was in neat rows behind, all ready for the baler and a tractor and trailer waited in the gateway to empty the grain tank. The combine, made in Germany by Claas, had rubber tracks where the front wheels are normally found, to alleviate compaction of the soil by this heavy machine. I just had to stop with my camera…

“Oh sh*t,” I said,
“Watch the road,” she said,
“They’re cutting!” I said,
“Watch the road,” she said,
“But they’re combining!” I said,
“Watch the road,” she said,
“I must stop the car,” I said,
“Watch the road,” she said,
“Where’s my camera?” I said,
“Damn nosey farmers!” she said.

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The Setting Sun!

Posted on July 25, 2013 by The Baldock Bard.

Yesterday Mrs Bard and I went to the funeral of a local farmer. Last night there was a wonderful sunset complete with ‘Mares Tail’ clouds. I’d like to think that the two were linked in some way and that Mother Nature had put on a special light show as a fitting ‘fond adieu’, but modern knowledge can easily spoil the wish. As agricultural practices become more scientific we seem to become more remote from the very land that we work, however we’re never far from the soil…

There goes the farmer driving by,
One eye on his crops,
The other to the sky.

Will it rain or will it be fine?
Would like some rain,
But need sunshine!

But come the time we’re not around,
Eyes are firmly,
On the ground.

Dedicated to David (Divid) Hodge, a Scotsman, friend and farmer who brought light when he entered a room.

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The Magical Cake Fairy!

Posted on July 13, 2013 by The Baldock Bard.

As you may have read in yesterday’s posting, (http://www.baldockbard.co.uk/?p=3546) we had a bad mechanical breakdown during hay-making. However the Cake Fairy was on hand and after a short break and some industrial-sized sustenance, the job was surrounded and came out with its hands in the air! Quite how I managed to repair such a complicated breakdown I shall never know, so I’m attributing my success to the Cake Fairy…

The Cake Fairy came to see,
What on earth was happening to me.
She looked at the baler with its broken knotter,
And decided to act (she’s quite the plotter!),
“Shut the doors,” she said to me,
“Go an have some cake and tea!
When you return to the job in hand,
It will seem much easier than you planned!”
I followed her instructions to the letter,
And yes indeed, I felt much better!
When I returned to the broken baler,
The mending job became a plain-sailer!
So if a job keeps you awake,
Listen to the fairy and have some cake!

Dedicated with enormous thanks to my two Cake Fairy’s, Gill and Sheila who always anticipate my cake-needs and are the finest cake-bakers in the land.

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The Madness of Hay-Making!

Posted on July 12, 2013 by The Baldock Bard.

There are times in life when you seriously question choices. In a farmer’s world these often happen around harvest or where animals are involved! I was enjoying making hay this year, the weather was perfect, the crop looked good and the aged machinery was behaving itself. And then yesterday evening all hell broke loose…

It was a perfect hay-making day,
Not a cloud sullied the sky,
The hay lay in rows,
The dust awaiting release,
And all was silent.

The baler arrived in the field,
The tractor gave a grunt,
As the machine was started.
The giant ram said,
“Chunka, Chunka Chunka!”

The tractor moved forward,
The pick-up gently lifted the rows,
The prongs moved the hay,
Towards the giant ram,
“Chunka, Chunka Chunka!”

The giant ram pushed the hay,
with violent rhythmical surges,
Towards the string and knotters,
Waiting to tie the hay into bales,
And eject them into the world.

“Bang!”
A terrible noise in a farmer’s world!
When acres of hay await the bailer.
Enforced silence after so much noise,
The search begins for what is wrong,
No dice are thrown in this game!

The fault is found and it’s back to the workshop,
The welder looks a likely cure!
And then the pressure of breakdown,
Reaches its zenith and illogicality reigns,
And there’s only one sensible answer:

A cup of tea and piece of cake!
(Along with a baby granddaughter’s two-toothed smile)
To make things better!

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Losing Our Postman Bob!

Posted on July 11, 2013 by The Baldock Bard.

At a time when the news is filled with stories about the proposed sell-off of Royal Mail we are apparently to lose our postman in a few days time. For our rural community this is far more newsworthy than the pros and cons of public or private ownership. It has been decided by some desk-jockey, sitting as far from customers as is possible, that our Bob is to be removed from this rural round. As far as anyone in the community can tell, he has not transgressed in any way, it is simply the great British middle-management disease of “if it ain’t broke – let’s fix it!” If I were to buy Royal Mail, I would realise that my greatest asset was the men and women who deliver the post, not the vast array of faceless ornaments that sit unseen behind desks. Bob has been the eyes, ears and cheerful daily companion to so many of us in our rural location and we will miss him…

This is our postman, he’s called Bob,
He’s about to change his job.
Management says that he must move,
Don’t care if customers don’t approve.
There is very little that we can do,
So thank you Bob, for being you.

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World Domination (Baldock Style…!)

Posted on July 10, 2013 by The Baldock Bard.

Today I’m planning world domination. I’m not becoming a blonde-haired villain with facial scar as seen in a James Bond film. I’m planning domination of the slightly smaller world of the aphid! Our bean crop has been attacked by legions of Black Bean Aphids and I’m sending in the hired gun, James Notbond. My agronomist, David (a very tall man who doesn’t look at all like a villain), spotted the attack on Monday during one of his fortnightly crop inspections. A bee-friendly, aphid-specific chemical (costing much more than the finest malt whisky) has been ordered, and Mr Notbond (a little shaken), has stirred and is on his way with the sprayer. World domination starts here…

The Agent was called by Minister Hubble,
“Mr Notbond we are in trouble,
We expect you,
To do what you do,
Before civilisation’s just rubble!”

On his way to the field out of there,
Funnypenny: “please James take care,
Those aphids are mean,
They’re killing the bean,
If you look they’re just everywhere!”

Now that the battle is won,
We can relax and have lots of fun,
The beans can relax,
enjoy some ‘chillax’,
Until they hear the combine and run!

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More Haste… Less Hay Turned!

Posted on July 9, 2013 by The Baldock Bard.

With this glorious weather still around we decided to make some more hay. Yesterday afternoon, son-in-law John went off to mow (without his dog!) and I was left to contemplate my shoes! Suddenly I had a good idea! I would fetch the thirty-year-old tractor from the back of the shed and go to turn the hay. An hour later the good idea was becoming poor reality as I struggled to prepare the old tractor for work following its long hibernation. However out in the field my idea bore fruit and hay was turned. Unfortunately the David Brown had not read the script and after an hour decided to break down. I realized too late that it was like entering Old Mother Hubbard into a marathon after a decade of sitting in a wing-back chair. Sometimes the longest way round is the shortest (and cheapest) way home…
I fetched the old tractor from the back of the shed,
I should have fetched a deckchair instead.
I went in haste to turn the grass
Would have been better with iced-drink in a glass
No air conditioning, the radio’s old,
The steering wheel was covered in mould!
The poor old girl did all she could,
Then broke down as I thought she would!
Abandoned she sits over-faced,
Sometimes better to wait, than rush with haste
© Baldock Bard 2013
For more verse click on ‘Home’ above  

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A Perfect Summer’s Morn!

Posted on July 5, 2013 by The Baldock Bard.

There is something very wrong about this morning. It’s seven o’clock on the first Friday in July and there isn’t a cloud in the sky. Not even a hint of Santa’s beard, or a single strand of goat hair, nothing. Now I realize that those of you who live in sunny climes will be wondering what I’m on about, but for the whole of this summer we have yet to enjoy what one may term ‘a summer’s day.’ At the car boot sale a fortnight ago it was like November (see picture below of a frozen Michelle on 22^nd June!) So this morning is special, “Hello Summer! What took you so long…”
I know I should be writing,
A verse for you all to enjoy,
But the weather outside is glorious,
hardly seen since I was a boy!

I hear the mower calling,
The barbecue is shouting too,
Can’t remember if there’s charcoal,
I suppose that wood would do!

I’ll have to find the garden chairs,
and cushions to prevent a numb-er,
If you’re passing do drop by,
And share our day of summer!

Here’s wishing you and yours a great weekend, may the sunshine continue (and Happy Birthday to friend Blair who is joining us for a barbecue later…. now where did I put those chairs!)

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Chinese Burns!

Posted on July 2, 2013 by The Baldock Bard.

There is a great fear amongst farmers at this time of year, of a fire that sets crops alight and cannot be easily extinguished. I have attended enough field fires in my time to know that the arrival of the fire brigade is sometimes not the end of the flames as forest fires show. I remember driving into a burning field and ploughing a wide firebreak through the smoke. On exiting the dense smoke I caught sight of a fireman leaping out of the way to avoid the tractor and plough. Luckily the fire was extinguished by the plough and crops were saved. That was from a bearing on a baling machine overheating. These days it is more likely to be caused by the letting off of a Chinese Lantern by a wedding party. As a founder of the Killjoy Party (farm division) I’d like to see them banned for use over land…

There’s a big fire up in Smethwick,
Chinese Lanterns are to blame,
One was seen on cctv,
Before a burst of flame.
100,000 tonnes of plastic,
Flames seen for miles around,
Bride and grooms celebration,
Cost £6m pound!

My crops are starting to ripen,
I can’t afford the loss,
So please curtail these bloody lanterns,
Or I’ll get mighty cross!

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Baldock Bard

Verse and Worse from the Baldock Versemonger

Category Archives: Farm and Countryside Life

A Cloudy Spillage!

Damn Nosey Farmers!

The Setting Sun!

The Magical Cake Fairy!

The Madness of Hay-Making!

Losing Our Postman Bob!

World Domination (Baldock Style…!)

More Haste… Less Hay Turned!

A Perfect Summer’s Morn!

Chinese Burns!