Horse dung

Yesterday I arranged to meet a woman in my home town who said she had some horse manure. So today at 3 p.m. I met her at the end of a lane. She was older than I am and told me to follow her in her vehicle and I was in mine. We drove up a track to a yard lined with large sheds, stables and horse boxes. She got out of her car, and when I was standing holding my spade and my plastic sacks, she disappeared. She was wearing a wide brimmed black hat, and horsey lady welly-boots, and her hair was dyed a nice dark red, so she should have been visible. It turned out she had gone into the stable yard. I followed her and felt a bit of a fool as I went following her here and there while she did a running commentary into her mobile phone. She then told me we'd be driving into the field in a truck - because the path was very muddy. I looked around for a truck - there were several enormous vehicles standing around. She gestured to a toy-size tractor. She got the keys and then it seemed she didn't know how to drive it. But she had a Spanish man in tow - and he spoke very little English but did know how to drive the truck. He drove me up and down through the troughs of mud into the field and then it turned out that there was no pile of manure - I was to scrape it off the field where it lay! But luckily the Spaniard helped me and I collected as much as I could get into the sacks and put into the tiny boot of my tiny car.  The horsey lady told me she wanted all my friends to call her and come and get the wonderful organic compost.

However, I don't think many of them will want to come and clear up the horse field for her. I was quite amused by her cheek.