Jenny’s been a widow now for three years. She seems to have managed quite well. Before Hubert’s death they had a small farm. It was more than a life-style; it was an income. They survived off the land.
When Hubert died, Jenny took over. It was as if she had farmed all her life. In fact, she had farmed all her life. It wasn’t as if she had pottered at the kitchen sink while her husband ploughed and made hay while the sun shone. She had been out there doing as much as her husband. They had been a team.
And now she was on her own and more than managing; although the farm needed a few improvements she could ill afford.
So Jenny decided to “rent out” the land to Harry, a nearby neighbouring farmer – in exchange for him replacing the farm gates. He moved in a herd of cattle. Then Jenny decided to “rent out” the land to Phil, a nearby neighbouring farmer – in exchange for him replacing the farm water troughs. He moved in a flock of sheep. Then Jenny decided to “rent out” the land to Dave, a nearby neighbouring farmer – in exchange for him replacing a few of the farm fences. He began to plough a field for a crop. Then Jenny told yet another neighbour that they would be welcome to have a go-cart course for the kids around a hillock on the property…
These days, Jenny’s in the hospital. She can’t remember much. And down on the farm there’s hell to play.
Listen the story being read HERE!
Well, that back-fired
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Must’ve been a bit of an old tractor! (Did I mention I’m from New Zealand? Where the All Blacks come from? !!!!!!!!!!!)
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You shouldn’t rub it in Bruce – there’s enough anguish in Old Blighty 😀
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LOL! I would withdraw my comment if at all possible!
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Oh, that might be a step too far 🙂
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I had to google “Old Blighty”…..
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Ever ready to increase your already substantial vocab!
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Did we help widen your commonwealth view Cynthia?
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Indeed you did….and you do….you have “awakened me from my dogmatic slumber” and I am very happy to have befriended wonderful aussies and kiwis (another term I didn’t know, and thought of only as a small fuzzy- skinned green fruit..)..though I think dressing all in black–while it makes one look more svelte—
can prove to be a trial when you live with cats and dogs….
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Aha! It’s reigning cats and dogs!
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We are here to help 😀
Did you know that ‘kiwis’ the fruit used to be called ‘Chinese gooseberries’ when I was a child and became ‘kiwis’ when we [by ‘we’ I mean our farmers who were tired of coping with falling sheep prices] discovered how to grow and export them and the name was a marketing challenge. The name change was a marketing triumph 🙂
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There you go, teaching me another new thing! I’ll be so smart by the end of today!
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😀
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Hah! We [by ‘we’ I don’t mean the Royal me], were just talking about the old name for Kiwi fruit yesterday. Were you eavesdropping?
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At the same time tree tomatoes were changed to tamarillos. Tamarillos never caught on much overseas – but give me a tamarillo any day over a kiwi fruit – especially in a pie!
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I’ve never had a tamarillo pie. Their flavour is mighty unique, straight off [the neighbour’s] tree.
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Ha! It must be in the air ….. 🙂
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“Pom” or “Pommy” is a more common term used these days for an English person – I would say it is now a term of endearment, but it used to be slightly pejorative.
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Oh, never mind the dime, Brother. May I have a tamarillo instead?
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They cost about a dime each I would imagine.
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In our shops, about AUD 1.49
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I like to grow them because the trees (only last about 2 years) are gorgeous with the red (or yellow) fruit hanging off them like Xmas decorations!
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Cynthia, Vilayat is a Hindi word that means foreign and when the British colonised India they picked up the word “Vilayati” which means foreigner and the word they coined for their country was Blighty
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Thank you, Shubha! I can see how that “v” might have turned into a “b” and the sound of it to an English-hearing ear would turn from “vilayati” into “blighty”…..the evolution of natural language is such a a wonderful path of twists and turns!
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Cynthia, you are so right! And thank you for the observation 🙂
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A million years ago, when I was a young dinosaur, I had a British beau who played rugby and the All Blacks were visiting. I got a little silver pin with a sheep on it. Not sure why. Baaa. Maybe because they thought I was a rugby groupie? Anyway, I do remember them doing a crazy chant at a party after the game.
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Aha! That would have been a haka (of which there are many). It’s not too unlike what you’re doing in you Gravatar!
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Actually, I’m not that partisan. The beautiful team deserved it
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Well, that’s one way to bring the neighbourhood together ………….
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Yes! If they didn’t know each other they will now!
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And Jenny doesn’t know any of them!
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Poor Jenny…though loss of memory can be a merciful thing…
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Who’s Jenny?
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What a mess! I would have sold the farm!
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E-I-E-I-O 😀
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I can’t decide whether she was very shrewd or a bit flakey. I suspect the hospital thing might be a ruse!
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I like your take on this. Otherwise she’s just … well no flattering way to say it …
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She’s gone gah-gah I reckon!
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Poor Jenny should have a lot of money coming in from the rentals – did she get hit by a go-cart?
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I’d say with a herd of cattle, a flock of sheep, a ploughed crop, and a go-cart circuit all in the same small “lifestyle block”, getting hit by a go-cart might me a blessing!
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Reminds me of getting a tax rebate from the government, imagining the windfall, and spending it several times!
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I got $3.81 last year – so there’s no need to scoff!
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Brother, can you spare a dime for a down and out Aussie?
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‘Brother can you spare a dime”….has got to be one of the most maudlin songs ever….I love it!
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Cynthia! Such a maudlin melancholic melody makes me mesmerized.
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We don’t have dimes over here!
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Haven’t seen too many over here either, lately….
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Oh well, how about 2 nickels then?
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We don’t have nickels here either. We used to have a bob and a quid, but now we have a bank card!
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Oh, good. The bank card will do nicely. I need to buy a go-cart.
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…and I’d like some doorbells, and sleigh bells and schnitzel with noodles….and a pony!
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You omitted to mention the partridge in a pear tree, and the schnauzer with poodles.
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Don’t you mean à la carte?
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This is the first post I read this morning. Someone is thriving well.
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It’s not me! I can hardly keep awake these days!! How are you my friend?
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I am fine, Bruce. How’s the sun at your end of the earth?
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The days are drawing out, but the weather predictions it going down at night on Thursday to 4 degrees! That will kill all my chilli plants!
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I didn’t know you loved chillies! Perhaps they keep you warm if chew them. They should return in a few more months.
“Seasons turn as if a turning door.”
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I feel hoisted by my own petard!
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I know that farm with the Go-Cart circuiting round. It’s a stone’s throw away in Buena Park. Of course it’s now called Knott’s Berry Farm.
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LMFAO. Sorry, but it was at 228 Allen and Eyre Road, Onewhero. But you’ve given me an idea!
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