Well hey! It stopped raining.

 

Yes sir,  pretty happy about that, right?

 

 

OK. Never mind.

And I just took the shovel up to the upstairs storage.

Idiot.

 

Like I *think* I said,  I almost prefer that it’s a bit colder if anything wet is going to come out of the sky.  And that’s only because then I know I won’t get quite as soaked, and I have a pretty good grasp on clothing options.  The somewhat sad looking yellow coat doesn’t even come into it.

Something like this one,  in case you were wondering.  You likely weren’t.

We still haven’t heard any news from the very smart people in Texas who make the arrangements for the move.  This is one of these examples of “outsourcing”,  which presents a certain number of pitfalls.  Once again, it serves no purpose for me to mention the name of this fine outstanding company, except to say that this firm does indeed have a presence on this side of the ocean.  Up in the UK, now that I think of it.   That would only represent a one hour time difference if someone wanted to talk on the phone.  Texas?  I think we’re talking six hours.  So annoying.   We won’t even touch on the language barriers between the countries.  Sometimes the Brits are harder to understand than the Texans. 

So the burning question is,  why the hell would you want to have someone in Texas looking after your move?  Hey, I’m empty.  Makes no sense to me.  Somebody’s golfing buddy?  Who knows?  Somehow these people got the contract because they have a “world wide presence”,  yet that aspect doesn’t seem to enter into the equation.  Gah!

Meh, it’s a first world problem.  We’ll find out soon enough.

 

As is the case every year at just about the same time,  my anti-virus program needs to be renewed,  which was something that we sorted out when I was back in Canada over Christmas.  Or so we thought.   I was willing to pony up the dough for an on line version, but my son-in-law pointed out that the same thing could be had in any of the computer type outlets like Futile Shop or Worse Buy for considerably less. 

Same thing,  less money,  so that works for me.  It was just a matter of going to the store to get it.  He paid, which works even better for me. 

Turns out though, that somewhere along the way we missed a step,  and the stupid program wasn’t recognising the new code. D’oh!  Had me a little bit concerned there.

I realise that there’s no need to get uptight about these things.  I’m not a complete neophyte when it comes to most computer “stuff”,  it’s just that I sometimes have a moment of hesitation when it comes to some of the steps.  Not a particularly big deal though,  as long as a person can very quickly do an internet search on some or all of the mechanics.  

I have a mild case of CRS after all.

This,  by the way, is probably one of the reasons why I’m still running Windoz XP,  which by now is almost an antique in the world of computer operating systems.  Well, unless you drank the Apple Juice at some point.

The thing is,  it works for me,  and I haven’t any huge desire to try something new just for the sake of trying something new. 

I’m sure there are those who would propose that I don’t know what I’m missing,  but this isn’t like comparing ploughing a field with a horse and one furrow plough to say,  having a Massey-Fergusson tractor,  with the revolutionary three point hitch system. 

 

   

Isn’t that sweet?

 

The story of the development of the three point hitch system,  and how it changed using implements in farming is quite interesting by the way,  but this isn’t a farming blog,  so we’d best not get too sidetracked. 

Who me?

 

OK fine, just give me a minute.

Actually,  the tractor that we had on the farm back in Nova Scotia looked more like this one…

 

….with maybe some minor differences.  I think we could crank ours,  but I don’t recall.   I’d have to ask one of my older brothers.  None of us thought it was “revolutionary” at the time. Well, according to my Dad,  the previous  tractor (before my time) had steel wheels,  so the rubber tires were certainly something new.

My next eldest brother is ten years older than I,  so he would have vivid recollections of forced labour on the farm.  He, and my two brothers older than him were just at that age when they could be counted on to the “tote that barge, and lift that bale".   They were strapping lads in their teens.  Had to be.

I was just a young snot,  so my usual job was to just drive the tractor.  Starting it up say,  or loading bales of hay on the wagon behind?  Well, I was only six when I started driving the tractor,  and most bales weighed more than I.   So I escaped that sort of drudgery.  Lucky lad.  I mean, I had to stand up to reach the clutch,  but once that criteria was met,  I qualified!

So does that mean I can say I’ve been driving for 50 years?  I suppose it depends on the definition of “driving”.

Going from “Just steer between the bales”,  to say, doing 220 kph on a German Autobahn?   It’s a bit of a leap,  I suppose.

I dare say that,  the execution of either of these activities at the corresponding moment in time, with the corresponding development of driving abilities,  could be considered equally stressful.

Driving a (rather small,  let’s be honest) tractor at the age of six with say, between four and six ton of hay on a wagon behind?   Or, doing that “hurtling down the highway” thing?   In each instance,  you’d best be paying attention.

 

OK fine.

Enough of this tractor nonsense.  Let’s just cut to the chase.

Took me a few minutes of “uninstalling” and other such shenanigans,  but I prevailed.  I’m sure you’re elated.

We’re sort of coming down to the bottom of the barrel here on the blogging end of things,  but unless I amuse you with more useless tractor trivia,  I’m afraid that’s going to be just about it for today’s missive.

 

And by all means, steer between the bales.

 

Thanks for stopping by.

 

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