Happy Tuesday

An excellent result once again for the Scotland side last night.  Written off before the tournament as having failed to deliver on their potential at the last tournament they have dealt that criticism a blow now.  Clarke was finished, the team too old, the tactics woeful, all true as it happens, but things have changed well this time round.

Having to deal with Portugal and Croatia, both containing one of the football greats of the day, and a strong Poland side with another Scotland were given no hope of success.  However, they have managed.  Wins against Croatia, we ought to have beaten Portugal, and last nights late, late show against Poland has seen us in a decent position after all.  OK, third is not great, but another goal in the right place and it would be even better.  But that's football!  As it is Poland are put down to the 'B' division, and Scotland now have a play-off against someone as yet unknown to find out if we follow them or remain where we are.  Soon we will know.  On the whole, things are looking up for Scotland whatever happens.

Allison Pearson's troubles with the police have filled many column inches in the 'Daily Telegraph' and other right-wing papers.  'Freedom of speech' is at stake, 'Stasi Police,' and other comments designed to indicate her innocence.  However, nothing is being said now when a racist crime may have occurred.  This means we cannot mention the situation as it may go to court but she is not being treated harshly by the Fuzz.  

In my humble view the lassie is indeed racist in many of her tweets and comments in the paper, she shares the outlook of the far right, defended the 'Farage rioters,' and may end up in court if the CPS agree.  

The question is, 'Are we heading for a police state?'  Well yes we are.  The law that allows police to stop people praying outside abortion clinics which kill healthy babies, encourage them to (often quite embarrassed by this) come to your door regarding a possible non criminal hate crime, one in which you don't know who complained or why, or even what the problem is, is indeed the beginning of the 'Stasi State.'  

When you lose the sense of right and wrong, when men dressed as women can be called women, when politicians can party while pandemics kill the populace, and when no discipline is found among our leaders you can expect the world to fall apart somewhat.

The thing is we are only at the beginning of this!

Spring Leaking

Spring remains in the air.  Indeed the air was full of Spring much of the day.  The west wind, curling round from the north blew heavily across the park encouraging a drookitness unpopular with the dogwalkers and passers-by.   I was OK though.  

Usually we say 'The farmers will like it,' but as we know farmers are never happy whatever the weather, and many have seen far too much rain this year already and the crops are not happy about it.  Mr Tesco and Mr Sainsbury are already increasing their prices even though they are as yet unsure of the particular crops involved.  

Cocoa in warmer areas has increased three fold in price, Olive Oil also, both caused by the weather and corporate greed.  Other fruits imported from the EU are suffering also.  That did not stop me buying some tasteless Spanish strawberries, know doubt covered in various chemicals to aid growth, for tea.  My health being what it is these preservatives may aid me rather than hinder.  

Family History

Since yesterday morn, where, dressed like a gangster in a black mask, I visited Tesco before dawn I have refused to leave my chair.  Simple laziness plus a desire to reply to the genealogy query sent to me.  I was glad as wearing a mask I canny breathe and my glasses steam up so not going into shops makes life easier.  I agree with the principle, I just canny breathe!  
Anyway, some time back I failed to find anything about James, a distant relative.   I did the decent thing and gave up.  It was a bit trying at the time and I needed a break.  Yesterday, once I had restarted this quest, I was happy to discover someone else had been looking in the same area and had not only found James (The Young Yin) but also his father James (the Auld Yin) and further his father John (The Very Auld Yin).  All, as is the case, farmers or tenant farmers in the Scots borders.

Making use of Google Maps I can get a glimpse of the land as they knew it.  The small towns and villages they knew have not grown much, some not at all, and the area is still dependent on farming for the most part for a living.  Taking into account the hardship of the days, Religious strife, all proud Scots and Protestant, the wars that passed through their lands, including 'Bonnie Prince Charlie' not that far away, and I am left wondering looking at gaps in the story whether some men have wandered of to a war or two?  Certainly they would not follow Charlie, the would be Catholic King, but adventure may call on occasion.

Farmers at the time, enduring economic and weather led woes, would work physically all hours of the day.  Little else to distract them, church on Sunday, family times together, educating them as best as they could, and breeding well, one man had 10 children when I lost count, plus one that failed to survive.  
Eventually, great granddad moved into Berwick itself, running a pub near the market with the help of his daughters, one of whom was deaf, and farming a nearby 40 acres.  Having seen the vista from the farm land moving into Berwick must have appeared to him like moving into a big city.  Edrom still has a mere handful of houses, most of whom were created after his forefathers moved on, and while Berwick has the sea beside it, once Scotland's richest city,  it appears to you and I as a very small town indeed.

  
So, while researching this I managed to ignore the dreadful performance of the West Indies cricket team.  Poor bowling, howling batting and nothing more than a desire to get out of the dismal wet Manchester and return to somewhere warm!  I do not blame them!  

Breath the Air Deeply

Brian Forbes

There has been a bit of a stink going around.  Some people are finding it a bit much, others just finding breathing a bit much!  It is that time of year again when Farmer Jones gets out the much spreader and covers the fields in the organic manure that is probably a lot cheaper than the chemical ones he buys.  I of course have no idea from where he obtains this stuff and I have no intention of enquiring re the source.  
A couple of days ago it began to work it's way into our consciousness late in the afternoon.  Such an aroma is not hindered by shut windows or scarves wrapped tightly around the face, I can tell you.  This delight seeps into the air and clings to you individual thus allowing the individual to enhance their lungs by breathing deeply and spending several days in hospital retching.  This happens every year yet this is the first time I have noticed people grumbling about this.  When I first arrived I remember being somewhat irked by the air but understood this is what happens when surrounded by fields producing bread.  For a day or two we benefit from this odour but it soon disappears and life continues as always.  Why people complain who have lived here for years I know not, it is part of life in the country.  The town is about three miles wide and two the other way and with lots of farmers actually growing things we are bound to notice their work sometimes.  They do not spend all day driving tractors slowly along the A120 for spite as some claim, they work on occasion and clearly one of them, to the north it seems, has been busy spreading it around.  I look forward to the crop he produces whatever it is.

How stupid can this stupid person be?  I am reading several books at once, two of which have been lying for some time and I picked them up once again while cleaning, and then is a charity shop came across this.  Naturally I took it home and placed it on the pile to be ignored for a while but then accidentally picked it up and began reading.  So that's five books one the go at one time.  Must go I have to read something before the football arrives...   

Morning Cycle

The rolling English countryside early in the morning sun is a grand sight, however if a developer gets his way this grand sight will turn into 1600 houses, plus Doctors Surgery etc.  The old railway walk will descend into just another litter covered backyard for thousands more people.  Since arriving here 21  years ago the population has grown from 30,000 to 40,000, the need for homes and the greed of developers would increase it by 30,000 more if they could.  The fightback appears to be holding at the moment, the first plan was turned down, the new one has faults and hopefully will not go ahead.  There are areas where such housing could be placed, this however is not one of them.

One man who would be happy is the farmer who I presume lives in this house.  He has been trying to sell up for years and who can blame him?  Farming is a hard life and easy money from the EU will end soon with no replacements on offer, even from a Tory Party that relies on farmer Jones and his vote, so selling the land for housing makes sense to him.  He will move far away I'm sure. 
The farmer requires a decent deal but housing will go against the needs of the locals for green space, and this development will join the town to the village and destroy the appeal for those living there.  Quite what the answer to this can be I know not.  
Just a wee bit further up the line they collected money to buy the land and use as a nature reserve, with added facilities for those health freaks looking for a place to exercise.  This is a good idea but money is not available for the land the farmer wishes to dump.  If only I had become the Billionaire I was meant to be...

Avoiding me at a distance were several horses.  The field here often has a horse or two, head down and uninterested in passersby, and I note rarely the same horses.  Maybe he trades them, hires them or just offers a field to feed them in. I don't know why?  The rabbits seem content with their arrival and look down their nose at the camera from a great distance, which is why there are no pictures of them.  This is the edge of the village which will be attached to the 1600 houses if greedy developer gets his way.  

  
The idea of rising early and cycling appeared a good one late last night, this morning it took on a different hue.  However my knees need the exercise so off I went, immediately unhappy about it, and in spite of the early morning traffic, the pain, the chill, I kept going and got some way up the old line before my knees began giving me their opinion of it all.  
The aroma early in the morn of the vegetation, the birds singing while hidden in the trees above, the glimpse of blue in the sky, all made for a delightful start to the day.  A dog was keen to make friends, the owner well she was less keen, while one other dog walker informed me the old industrial estate will soon be 125 houses, including flats!  I must agree with housing there as the place was almost empty of companies and gypsies were moving in, and that means vast amounts of rubbish left behind for others to clear.  Housing of the right type in the right place can be accepted.

Bluebells abound at the moment and it is a pity I am too far from the woods where they cover the land.  Yesterday I was shown pictures of woodland that was a mass of blue from one end to the other.  All I found were the poor wee things outside my door.  

Blossom is beginning to fail.  The bright white on some trees has fallen and these lovely red ones are turning a slight pink shade.  These are not long for this world so now is the time to picture them until next year.  The park was originally a house belonging to one of the rich folks who gave much to the town.  The gardens were very well organised, whoever planned them distributed a variety of trees around the place and after a hundred and more years some are beginning to fail.  The council have cut down several that were diseased or dangerous and have begun planting new ones in appropriate areas.  This blossom is quite new and is flourishing happily, hopefully all the others will do so also.

Home to find carpetlayers in the hall hammering away all day.  Just what my tired mind wants to hear.  However I fed them tea, once only in case they stay too long, and while doing this broke the kettle!  Since buying it there has been problems and now it has failed.  The bin for this and back to Tesco later for a new (cheap) one.  Yesterday I had to go there to replace the iron which died, the water dripped out the bottom alarmingly, and now more money is to be spent.  I wish I could survive as well as the Crows who I found feeding themselves in the town centre this morning.

Morning Bike

The old railway line was becoming busy as I made my way back from my exercise run this morning.  The delight in watching men struggle up the slope knowing that they have a days work ahead of them and are rushing to be at work by eight o'clock leaves me quite satisfied.  Very satisfied that I no longer require to do this.  Better to travel to work this way mind rather than on a commuter bus or train where you have no control whatsoever over the running of the transport.  Nothing but punctures and women with dogs can annoy you as you race to work.  For me of course the women and dogs often mean a few words exchanged, Fifi keen to rub her head into my knee although the dog was less keen for some reason, and then a few words with a retired man and his close to retirement dog, 'seen it done it, just lets walk and feed me' type dog, and all this while trundling slowly down the slope and not struggling upwards.

Six thirty and I was heading into the old railway line.  The mist was dissipating quickly from the dip in the land as the sun rose majestically (what does that mean exactly?) and soared into the sky.  I tried to stop it and told it to wait until I was in position but it did not listen to me.  As Jenny noted fields like this, somewhat enlarged in recent times, contain no birds.  Those that exist do so in the areas off the old railway where trees and shrubs have arisen since the trains ceased forty years ago and wildlife has increased.  The Rangers control the area well and yet if we relied on the farmers much would be lost.  It must be said that many farmers do cut corners when harvesting and allow larger areas at the ends of many fields to go wild.  Some have dropped fields altogether, possibly for EU money, and encouraged wildlife in this manner.  The man here just wants to sell this farm and plant 3500 houses but the council said 'NO!'  Good for them, this is the wee towns one real country area, a link between town and village with no reason to bring the two together except money making.  Three area on the other side of town will have housing, more appropriate in my view but not popular with all.

This was supposed to be an interesting image of the sun hitting the mist as it hung over the trees.  No matter what I did, no matter what I fiddled with nothing like the actual picture I saw arrived in my camera.  Still it's OK as an image.  It does however make the pylons look like they are the stars of one of the 'Star Wars' type movies, pylons ready to march across the earth dominating the land, although some would say they already do that.  Mind you if they did not march those who object could not communicate their objections as they would have no electric!

One thing I love about this time of year is the bright early morns when I can get the bike up the old railway and take a picture or two, even if they don't work out right.  The sheer brightness of the sun over the fields brought to mind those who had to work those fields in the days of long ago.  The harvest would be cut by man and scythe, heaped by women into stalks and only late in the 19th century did a man, usually a grumpy self important one from the north, arrive with a machine and thresh the crop for the farms.  I did read an item about this that Thomas Hardy put into one of his books.  I got the impression he had read it also and made use of it but I could be wrong.  Even with the machine to help this was hard work from morning till night and the pay was not good.  After the harvest there comes a time to plough and sow and start again all the time watching the sky as country folks know the weather required watching all the time.  The sky hinted at slight red this morning as I rose and I suspect the old agricultural labourers would tell what the day held even from that, though they would be working by six in the morning to tell the truth.  Hard work all day for what?  Possibly seven shillings a week?  Maybe more for the ploughman or cowman, but nothing at all when the crop fails.  One of the first acts of the Cameron government was to drop the protection given to farm hands, not that many exist today.  Country people vote Conservative and they are important to the Party.   

This old fashioned type of signpost has been removed in some areas but Essex keeps them and I think this right.  There are enough modern tin signs on main roads and these add a wee bit of character to the area.  One, standing in town since long before the war had become a wreck yet the council replaced it with the same type of sign, not a modern one.  Good for them I say!

The 'Crix Green Mission' looks like a hall grafted onto the back of a typical Essex farmhands house.  The hall roof has a Dutch inclination to it but I am afraid as this Hamlet comprises a mere 13 houses it does not have much use.  Services led by St Michael's occur but how often I know not, and the hall is used during elections for voting purposes.  At one time it must have had a full time member who know ll the people round about, and there would be many more farmhands then, but today while the house is occupied the hall clearly does not have a full time staff today.  Imagine living in a  Hamlet of 13 houses, most of whom are now quite pricey.

Nothing for it but to run back down the line and head for breakfast.  My knees have had enough exercise this week but none tomorrow as I am on my last Thursday at the museum, I think.  With local kids back at school on Thursday I suspect we will be quiet for a change with only normal people arriving.  I may have to just sit there quietly all day and read a book....fat chance!

For those who don't understand 'Brexit' and such stuff, here are a couple of Irish Comedians to explain things in a simple and clear manner, sort off. 

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Ancient Rural Scene

As my bike and I shook and clattered along the ageing path I stopped to cogitate on the farm in the distance.  I wondered how long folk had farmed this land?  Certainly there was a Celt Iron Age settlement around here somewhere when the Romans brought us roads, wine, revolting Boudicca and failed to take Scotland.  Interestingly enough Tacitus wrote of his father in law who was governor here twice in the 70's and 80's.  That's first century by the way!  His name Agricola, as in Farmer!  Good job his dad was into growing things and not a plumber.  Not that Agricola did much in the way of farming, unless you call dealing with rebellious Celts a kind of reaping.  Hunter gatherers from the distant past were in Essex 8000 BC and by 2000 BC some had become resident in the district.  It is possible the trees which covered the area were cleared soon after this time I guess and so for around three thousand years this area has provided fodder for the people in one way or another.  Not long when you consider Iraq has been doing the same for about ten thousand years but I find this strangely fascinating.  Not so the farmer who rushed past me in his Japanese 4x4 leaving the dust to settle on my almost clean bike.  I blame the EU!

That church has stood there for between 800 and a 1000 years also.  It may sit on a Roman cemetery, which may sit on a Celt one, and the Saxons may even have built the first church around 600ish there, or not as the case may be.  So rarely do i see this view it took me by surprise.

I also came upon this poppy sitting almost alone among greenery in a siding.  These excellent bright plants appear almost everywhere at this time of year.  The colour stands out and as they are found everywhere, and probably unstoppable at that, I suspect they will be around for a very long time.  I wonder if some Afghan will go around and make some money out of them in a wee while....? 

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Ichabod and I

Ichabod, the bike that is, and I struggled up the old railway early this morning before my mind was wide enough awake to realise what I was doing.  My knees are now well able to explain the short trip, and loudly at that!  A chap I know belongs to one of those cycling groups, you know the type, helmets, shorts, bright tight jerseys and riding bikes costing several hundred pounds, well he was commenting on their 'run' of just over a hundred miles.  They had done a bit more the day before!  These imitation Tour de France types sometimes come past here, and if on telly I will watch it myself.  Men like the idea of being tough or strong enough to ride up hills and speed along straight rods, always comparing the time between your past time and some other superstars.  Incidentally I watched a programme featuring Clare Balding, a lass referred to by one man as 'Dyke on a Bike,' cycling around the hill of Devon in one of those excellent short travel programmes.  Indeed I like this type of thing and Balding does present herself well here.  However she mentions the small point that she was on a 'short run,' of just 30 miles!  I considered this during my ride up the slope and calculated that by turning back I would get home after completing 3 miles.  My knees agreed that was far enough today!

Farmer Jones will be happy that in spite of the rain his crop is succeeding this year.  I am claiming this is wheat but I expect you experts will tell me it is something completely different, like mango or the like.  His wide field looks in quite good nick in spite of the refusal of the council to allow him to sell some fields to a builder who wants to create 500 homes there.  Luckily even our Councillors are too busy planting said 500 houses on a different farm to care for him.  I am glad as this would spoil the old railway for many of us.

It seems like years since I have been up here and the rain has developed the vegetation somewhat!   This stuff lined the path all the way up, in spite of being curtailed by the Rangers who have stopped it encroaching the entire path.  There is something refreshing about breathing in such an atmosphere (unless you have Hay Fever or Asthma I suppose), listening to the birds singing, beasties rummaging through the undergrowth and cheerily allowing occasional cyclists to rush past as they must get to work before eight.  How I love not having to do that these days.  I miss the good bits, the people, the routine but not the hassle, office politics, grumpy folks, and of course the public!  

  
How much better this looks when greenery is everywhere, also when the way home is downhill!

Occasional remnants of the old railway.  A sign to indicate the rise and fall of the track ahead.  Just ride a bike pal and you soon find how far the track rises and falls!  

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Now I'm not one to Complain, But....

I awoke this morning to the World Service, 'Outlook' was offering us yet another sob story, just what I need when darkness covers the land.  Day after day Matthew Bannister indulges himself with tales of woe, rape, torture, suffering and anguish, mostly from women, doing his best to imitate one of those women's magazine's that live on that sort of thing.  Just what is it about such mags that they sell by trauma?  Who can forget the cover headline 'MY LOVER WAS AN ANORAK?  The stories follow suit, 'Doctor healed by face,' 'My child was black,' 'My hair went gray.'  The women of this world appear to require an hour's emoting over another's pain rather than having a life, why?  If someone is suffering try to help them, if you can't do anything why enjoy their pain? 

The only shock 'Outlook,' is that a man presents the programme.  Later, as I dozed, we come to 'Farming Today.'  Now you might think that an occupation dominated by males would have a suitable presenter but no!  Only women are allowed to lead this one.  Two were involved today, too much for one I ask?   Of course a woman is producer!  After the torrential rain that has flooded the farms and destroyed much of the crops it would be reasonable to expect the programme to be dominated by sodden farms, but no!  The first story concerns the 23,000 women now involved in farming!  Gosh, it was always men before because the work was 'heavy,' now women are involved because of machinery.  I suppose the farmers wife of days gone by does not count?  I suppose they never worked a tractor or pushed cows about?  Today however women work on farms because it is 'light work!'  I think some women may object, the men certainly should.  So men do the hard work, women the easy, and they get more pay, this is a femail guide to equality I suppose?  

Talking of high wages and little work have you noticed how News Sports broadcasts are almost always presented by women?  All channels, on both TV and radio men are blatantly discriminated against, any objector is howled down, often by the men in the media!  The men that is who have yet to suffer being replaced by a floosie.  The 'Daily Mail,' that pillar of objectivity and high standards, daily offers us a report of a hard done by woman and her suffering at work.  Her wages are always less, the 'glass ceiling' against her, and men have it easy.  Not the men who have to do her work while she is off work yet again of course!  Those kids make a good excuse to miss the difficult days.  The feminist lobby object to hard facts from male commentators asking if men on oil rigs suffer in any way, or the difficulties of those digging holes in the road.  Femail concern is not offered these men.  The other day some men, names withheld, commentated somewhat cynically on the report that women in their 20's now earned more than their male colleagues of similar age.  The result was an outbreak of misandry.  Not one misandrist suggested equality meant equal pay, they just took the money and ran!  So if a woman gets more than a man that is OK to them.  

Men are suffering discrimination at work in every sphere, apart from those that require hard work, and it should cease with immediate effect I say!  

Butchers, Bakers & Candlestick Makers.

I like this picture, though I can't trace where it came from. Wounded men, around 1915, heading back to hospital.  Walking wounded from many regiments.  Note the shorts on one, the kilt on another, the bandages, the tickets authenticating their wounds.  I like this because it shows them together, all for one, probably in pain, being held up for a photograph for the folks back home.  

I was given a list of dead Great War soldiers details recently and have been adding them to the website I raised for them, Braintree & Bocking War Memorial,  and am intrigued by the types of work in which they or their relatives were employed.  Quite a few appeared to be 'sons of a horseman on a farm,' which makes sense in this country area.  However when did you last see horses in daily employment?  At the time of the Great War farms were dominated by horse drawn equipment and a large number of men were employed in their care, a ploughman being a very skilled operator. Agricultural labourers also abounded and one or two who served had that delightful (ha!) work as the war began.  Dunfermline Co-op did use horse drawn vehicles even in the early 60's, and the 'St Cuthbert's Co-op in Edinburgh had them in the early 70's if memory serves me right, although few were still in daily use.  Occasional Brewers Drays are seen in various places throughout the country. Horse grooms and ploughmen just don't exist as such today.  

I am also intrigued by the change in the shopping patterns.  Several men were sons of Grocers, others were Butchers and no such shops appear today.  Actually I am wrong, a butcher still exists here but the only Fruit & Veg left are stalls on market day.  These shops, along with almost all Bakers, have now been replaced with large supermarkets containing pretend Bakers, Butchers and the like instead.  While many women enjoyed the flirting that resulted in the shopkeepers desperation to obtain their cash it also meant a trek between several shops, sometimes a distance apart, although it did make them fitter than today's lass who has to spend time at the gym to keep her figure.

Foremen in the Boot Factory or employees of a Mat Factory also appear,  and it is many years since we stopped making boots in the UK.  I'm sure someone still does somewhere by even the great factories in East Anglia have long gone, probably to China.  Who makes Mats?  India I wonder?  Even those employed by the big iron foundry, who employed large numbers of females to make munitions, or Crittall's and their famous steel window frames, are a distant memory today.  Crittall's existed a few years ago, I almost had a day's employment there myself, but moved away and I am not sure it still operates today.  The iron foundry, like the rest are now housing estates that leave people  struggling to pay the mortgage.   So many businesses that men fought four long years for no longer exist, and those that do, like agriculture, have changed immeasurably in the century that has passed by.  Once thirty or more men worked on a  farm, now there is only two, with a third to power the machinery during harvest time.  House painters and Publicans have not changed that much, neither I suspect have solicitors!  The street layout is similar but the buildings that survived two wars, and not all did, are much changed.  Hopefully we can discover how many men obtained their jobs again once they returned, in many places they did not!  

A hundred years is not a long time when looked at from a historical viewpoint.  Much similarity remains, but the world is a very different place.  Cars now growl where horses plodded, long working hours are replaced by shorter hours and long paid holidays, heavy labour is much reduced by machinery, and women do all the shopping in one day, making him carry it to the car and drive her home.  Washing machines and Microwaves, electricity for all, and the wonder of radio & TV would frighten the ploughman more than they would the horses.  While rail travel enabled long distance travel most folks did not venture far, today they holiday in Spain, or even Hawaii.  The NHS heals most of the sickness soldiers took for granted and dole money and pensions are a godsend to one and all.   The men pictured above may well have survived the war, although that looks very much like a 1915 picture, and they would have benefited from the advances.  What would those who did not survive think if told today I wonder?  

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Welsh Farmer

A Welsh farmer is overseeing his animals in a remote part of the Country

when suddenly a brand-new BMW advances out of a dust cloud towards him. The

driver, a young man in a designer suit, Gucci shoes, Ray Ban sunglasses and

YSL tie, leans out the window and asks the farmer, 'If I tell you exactly

how many cows and calves you have in your herd, will you give me a calf?'

The Farmer looks at the man, obviously a yuppie, then looks at his

peacefully grazing herd and calmly answers, 'Reet, why not?'

The yuppie parks his car, whips out his Dell notebook computer, connects it

to his Cingular RAZR V3 cell phone, and surfs to a NASA page on the

Internet, where he calls up a GPS satellite navigation system to get an

exact fix on his location which he then feeds to another NASA satellite that

scans the area in an ultra-high-resolution photo. The young man then opens

the digital photo in Adobe Photoshop and exports it to an image processing

facility in Hamburg , Germany .

Within seconds, he receives an email on his Palm Pilot that the image has

been processed and the data stored. He then accesses a MS-SQL database

through an ODBC connected Excel Spreadsheet with email on his Blackberry

and, after a few minutes, receives a response. Finally, he prints out a

full-color, 150-page report on his hi-tech, miniaturized HP LaserJet printer

and finally turns to the farmer and says, 'You have exactly 1,586 cows and

calves.'

'Wow That's right. Well, I guess you can take one of my calves,' says the

Farmer.

He watches the young man select one of the animals and looks on amused as

the young man stuffs it into the boot of his car.

Then the farmer says to the young man, 'Listen! if I can tell you exactly

what your business is, will you give me back my calf?'

The young man thinks about it for a second and then says, 'Okay, why not?'

'You work for the British Government', says the farmer.

'Wow! That's correct,' says the yuppie, 'but how did you guess that?'

'No guessing required.' answered the farmer.

'You showed up here even though nobody called you;

you want to get paid for an answer I already knew, to a question I never asked.

You used all kinds of expensive equipment that clearly somebody else paid for,

you tried to show me how much smarter than me you are;

and you don't know a thing about cows ....... this is a herd of sheep.

Now give me my dog back.