Random reminder

Press, 29 July 1980, Page 25

Random reminder

REBUKE

He was old and lined, his hair iron rev, from years of battling the weather, bank managers, three wives, and a brood of unruly and ungrateful children. His farm was perfectly °rassed and fenced,its trees laid out m symmetrically patterned wind shelters, its stock as good as any in the district. Fiftv years earlier, when he had inherited the farm, it had been flat, drought-prone, and the tones more thick on the ground than blades of grass. It was still flat, but everything else had changed thanks mainly to his own hard work. His industry and success had not made him tolerant; indeed he was 10 snarls beyond the point of irascible. New ideas were rejected immediately, vehemently and - contemptuously. His reputation in the district was that of a man admired, certainly not liked. For him, widespread respect had not been accompanied by affection, and he preferred it that way. She was young, her hair long and platinum blonde, and she wore spectacles adorned with large frames such as certain television personalities affect. She had been born and bred in the city but had always loved animals, so after acquiring a degree at Lincoln College she was basking in her first job as a local farm advisory officer. Whereever she went on her official

business she was welcomed. This may have had something to do with her appearance, but was also a tribute to her pleasant manner and her competence once the formalities had been completed. In all the district, only one farmer was proof against her j appearance, her personality and her (competence — the old man. This worried her, but she got on with her job and kept away from him, as he plainly wanted nothing to do with her. But it was a small district and it was impossible for them to avoid each other entirely. One day they bumped into each other in the local store. He glowered at her and she tried to pretend that she had not noticed him. But he would not be put off. “What a waste of public money to have someone like you going round advising people on how to farm,” he growled. “What do you know about fanning? By the look of you, you have never done a hard day’s work in your life. Look at those hands of yours. What have they ever done?” Taking a deep (but surreptitious) breath, she turned slowly towards him and beamed as if butter would not melt in her mouth,, and said, “Well, I suppose if you have no brains you have to earn.a living by the sweat of your brow.” The shopkeeper dined out on the story for months.