Talking the Talk

What I've learned
You have to choose your moment

One of the things about going out with a farmer is that you often don't have a lot of time together all in one go. Depending on the time of year, sometimes it's just a quick catch up over lunch at midday and that's it until lunch the next day.

That's fine when all we have to catch up on is whether we're running out of milk, what we might fancy for tea or jokes about Iceland (the supermarket, not the country). But when there are bigger things to discuss, it can be hard to find the right time.

For example, back when we'd been seeing each other for about six months, I wanted to talk to Ivie about feelings and stuff. It was the longest relationship I'd been in for 20 years and it felt like things were getting a bit more serious. Ivie had had a terrifying accident in his tractor a few weeks previously and it had made me realise (a) how dangerous his industry is (b) how I felt about him and (c) that I should probably tell him.

But it was May. So we went on a tractor date.

I drove an hour and a half to Snudge's farm* where Ivie was spreading fertiliser. After accompanying him for about two hours I figured I'd better tell him why I was there and muttered those three little terrifying words. He muttered three little words back ("the feeling's mutual") but I wasn't really expecting what happened next.

"Get out," he said, pointing to the tractor door.
"What?!" I asked, feeling a bit confused (especially as we were at least three fields away from my car).
"Get out," he said a bit more forcefully.
"What do you mean?," I asked.
"That gate's needing opened," he pointed, grinning.
"Bloody hell," I muttered as I jumped down from the cab and stomped to the next gate.

Tractor Date View

* I learned the other day that one of the fields at Snudge's is called Bagswallop. Ivie's lucky I didn't bagswallop him.