Some of you may know that I travel the country as a rep. I worked for a company that generalised in steel fabrication, quite well known in horticulture and agriculture and was called to visit a farm in the hills in central Wales to advise on some custom built housing for some sheep.
I know you think think England is small but by the time I had crossed England on the motorways and started into the minor roads I was a bit peeved that I couldn't have sorted it over the phone - but the client hadn't really been forthcoming.
Well this was before satnav and the final leg was proving to be difficult so I stopped in the last wee town and got directions off two good old boys sitting at the side of the high street enjoying a jar in the sun. The pub gardens were on the side of the road and they were obviously in their favourite spot enjoying jabbering with the passers by.
I followed their directions up a lost lane and found the farm and was offered a quad bike to complete the last leg. I was more than a little pleased to rip up the last hill on the quad - never having ridden one before I made sure I nearly killed myself...snigger...
So I end up in front of the farmer... Eventually....and how so unexpected that after considerable discussion to find he wouldn't quite get to the point but he wanted this new housing to accommodate this new breed he had spent years selectively breeding - you had to hear all.....But I still sought a bit of clarification on what had to be so special with a bunch of sheep?
I remembered he sighed and seem to decide to tell me more and starting to demonstrate as he spoke. At that point I notice these things have got quite nasty looking horns which he said was the entire point as he steps behind this wild eyed sheep whilst hooking on to the first horn on one side and reaching round for the second horn to repeat the procedure with the hooking up.
It hadn't missed my eye that his trousers were simultaneously loosened off and ended up around his knees as this thing started to kick off. What a sight all caught up with this poor animal which completely startled by the goings on broke into a run dragging him down the hill at full tilt with his arms still hooked into the horns and soon out of sight.
I gave up at that stage, I hadn't understood any of the peculiar goings on that welsh farmer had tried to explain. I enjoyed the last of the quad bike, swapped it back out for my car at the farmhouse and back on the road to the town.
I couldn't help stopping to speak to the same two gentlemen still in front of the pub to express my disbelief. As I approached them one said to the other.
"Nice triumph trophy- I am sure!" which surprised me!...how did they know that?
But then the other gentlemen then said
"yes, but how can you spend all that money on handlebar risers and not have money enough for a pair of jeans. I just don't understand the youth of today...."
Trophy 900, fox eyes, mostly red, mostly upright in southern England