BoldonLad
Old man on a bike. Not a member of a clique.
- Location
- South Tyneside
I was set up by a farmer friend of mine in Pembrokeshire once. She said "Claud, come and help me feed the cows", and we got on the tractor and rattled out to what to looked like an empty field, with trees around the edge. She said "I'll do the silage, you do the treacle", and handed me a flagon of molasses to fill a container with a ball valve in the middle of a field. Still no sign of cows. She clambered on top of the bales at the top of the hill, and I ambled off to the container with my sugary cargo. Not a cow in sight.
The ambush came the second I unscrewed the cap of the treacle flagon, heralded only by an abrupt bovine chorus from the tree-line on all sides. Macbeth must have felt similar at Dunsinane when Macduff's army finally dropped their boughs. Cows were upon me, from all directions, excitable, advancing at speed. My friend was still atop the bales, clutching her sides and rolling around with glee. The hordes had only sugar on their tiny minds, and I had the sugar. I was being nudged. Bigly. My only option was to pour.
Cows have very rough tongues.
Perhaps the treacle saved the day? https://www.walesonline.co.uk/news/wales-news/woman-out-walking-dogs-trampled-27784604