Saturday, 25 May 2013

I Ain't Afraid Of No Cows


It’s Friday evening here at the caravan site which means just one thing – if you want to use the internet you’re basically ****** (insert your own expletive of choice here). You see, whilst the internet is not exactly on a par with that geeky guy in the BT ad’s, during the week it does work (after a fashion). As soon as more than two people with an iPad or with kids who are into the latest worldwide blockbuster game turn up it grinds to a halt. So, if you are reading this in August, apologies, it was written on Friday 24th May.



I’ve had a day on my own. Although I offered my services to Sarah I didn’t get called up for babysitting duty so I decided to go metal detecting. As I drove around my favourite spots my heart sank as I found all the fields freshly sown with crops and out of bounds. So I headed for some pasture and asked the farmer if it would be okay for me to try my luck. “Fine” he says “The cows willna bother you”. The phrase “The cows willna bother you” rang alarm bells in my head and conjured up visions of me and my dad, weighed down by an assortment of fishing tackle, being chased by a herd of bullocks across an Irish field sometime in the 1970’s. I was also aware of a recent news story in which a man was trampled to death by a herd of cows.

With nowhere else to go it was a case of braving the cows or no detecting. I wasn’t expecting to find much. Past sorties on this field had produced scores of pre-decimal coins and that was all I expected with the faintest hopes that a silver (or even gold) one might turn up.



And the coins duly turned up along with a heart shaped horse harness fitting, which was a welcome novelty. The cows were lying down in the distance ignoring me. But I wasn’t ignoring them and had an eye on them for the slightest movement. Sure enough, about an hour after I arrived, one stood up. I know it was only a cow but she had some pretty big horns. She pawed the ground like a bull facing a toreador and let out a moo, which I think translated as “there’s that bloke who ran like the clappers when confronted with a few little Irish bullocks. Let’s show him what Scottish cows are made of”. Instantly the rest of the herd was on its feet and within seconds were galloping (if cows gallop) towards me.

This time, carrying just my lightweight XP Deus detector, I was not hindered by fishing rod, basket, keep net, landing net, groundbait and a ton of maggots and headed for the gate. Fortunately the cows ran towards where I had been rather than where I was heading and I made it to the gate with enough time to have given them the finger (had I been so inclined). And then I realised that that was the day’s metal detecting finished.





So I went off on my bike. It was a glorious spring afternoon and, after a pretty difficult ride I drove down to St Andrews and walked around its most beautiful spots before buying some food to make my evening meal.



Tonight it was chicken Caesar salad. And very nice it was too. Only two days before Marion arrives. I can’t wait to see her.