I’m Safe Picking Strawberries… Aren’t I? Part 2

Published / Written by Judith Portman / No Comments Yet

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So there I was, sitting in one the biggest cow-pats I’d ever had the misfortune to come across and suddenly became aware that Bella was hissing at me to get up. “What’s up with you?” I bellowed. “The least you could do is help me up. It was your idea to come in here in the first place.”



“There’s a none-too-happy farmer coming towards us with a gun,” she hissed.

I quickly got to my feet, just managing to rub my hand down the side of my shorts to get rid of a dollop of you know what, and held my hand out to shake the famer’s. He was glowering at me, ignoring my proffered hand and still not looking happy.

“What are you doing in my field? Can’t you read? You shouldn’t be in here.”

I chanced a glance at his face to see if he looked as angry as he sounded and was staring into the most beautiful blue eyes I’d ever seen. I was momentarily lost for words, which I’m sure you realise is unusual for me! Just my luck, I thought. This gorgeous guy probably has women falling at his feet all the time, and I bet most of them aren’t covered in cow muck! “I’m s-sorry,” I muttered, unable to come up with anything else. I looked at Bella in desperation for some help, but she was as dumbstruck as me.

“We were just trying to get a look at the cows,” Bella attempted to explain, smiling when she realised just what a hunk he was. But he was unimpressed by either of us.

“You do realise you’re in a field of bulls don’t you?”

We both looked around, suddenly scared of what might have happened and eye-balling the animals which were now moving closer to us, looking menacing I have to say. It probably didn’t help that I was wearing bright red, (by now brown-tinged,) shorts. Bulls are attracted to red aren’t they? By that stage I wasn’t sure who looked more menacing…the farmer or the bulls! Safe to say, all I wanted to do was to get out of there and so using what little shreds of self-esteem I could muster together, I drew myself up to my full five feet, four and a half inches, (the ½ is important!) and said haughtily, “So sorry to have troubled you. We will be on our way now.”

As I turned to leave, keeping one eye on the bulls, I slipped again and fell face first into the dung! It sure wasn’t my day. Even the farmer laughed out loud and just stood there, making no attempt to help me. By the time Bella had half-pulled, and half-dragged me to the perimeter fence, the farmer had turned away and the bulls were getting closer. Throwing myself over the fence in a bid for freedom, I chose the one and only patch of nettles around to land in. Having shorts on certainly didn’t help with the pain factor and I spent the next half hour trying to explain what dock leaves looked like to Bella. Having been brought up in a city, she had no idea.

And to top everything off, when I finally got home with my precious pile of strawberries, I opened the fridge to discover that my hubby had finished off the cream. In its place was a lonely natural yogurt with a note peeping out from under it. It read: I know you’re watching your weight so I thought I would get rid of the cream for you.

Strawberries and natural yogurt just doesn’t cut it in the same way as strawberries and cream, does it? Oh well, such is life!

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