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Milking it for all it’s worth
IT was a beautiful summer’s day.
People were drinking and laughing.
However, I could not join in the fun of the agricultural fare because it was all in country talk about the way a pig was standing or the perkiness of a lamb’s ears.
It was madness. Animals are for eating, not for looking at.
A man touching a horse’s tongue with his own to win his cooperation and another jabbing a sheep in the bottom to speed it up.
Other country folk persuaded me not to follow my first instinct and carry out a citizen’s arrest.
As I supped a revolting homemade cider to steady my nerves, I noticed how many country beauties could be seen earnestly slaving away in cute little farmer outfits.
I feared these attractive country foxes would not succumb to my advances unless I improved my country credentials.
Their heads would most likely be turned by a man who could plant a crop, lasso a goat and dip a sheep – whatever that means.
Perhaps I could milk a cow.
After surprisingly few inquiries, I found myself on my knees, holding a bucket and staring at udders.
I spent some time patting the cow and becoming acquainted as it seemed rude to just start yanking away without any kind of introduction.
The first squeeze fired a shot of milk straight up my sleeve.
Undeterred, I redirected the business end of the udder and ,with a joy close to euphoria, heard the smattering of milk on bucket.
After ten minutes. I had extracted what equated to a trickle.
I was told a proper country person could have taken a couple of pints in that time.
I squinted at the cow suspiciously.
I poured the fruits of my labour into a glass and put it to my lips to see a look of horror on the faces of the bumpkins.
A nearby acquaintance explained that unpasteurised milk could make people sick if they weren’t used to it.
I waved away these limp protestations and chugged the disconcertingly warm beverage.
Several hours later, the vomiting subsided and I vowed any future milk I consumed would come in nice, clean cartons from a shop as God intended.
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