Jim’s ladies…
As you might imagine, Iβve been musing recently on the impact of arbitrary government diktats. Admittedly theyβve been part of my life for longer than I care to remember, but then agriculture has always been a field where Westminster felt it unwise to rely upon the ignorant and unlettered peasantry, and preferred to organise things themselves. From a safe distance. And during office hours.
But if we scroll back through the years, back on 2 April 1984 the government (at EEC behest) introduced milk quotas. This is the equivalent of the government telling you than instead of working 35 hours a week, you could now only work 28 hours, but at the same hourly rate. The expedients that you have to resort to so that you can keep paying your mortgage are your problem, not theirs.
So we have to do something and we tried various things. One was toβ¦
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A group of nice girls π
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I prefer Jerseys myself π
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I like them, but to be fair they can be cantankerous little devils π
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Only if you don’t know how to sweet talk them…
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big black and whites never learned the trick and used to get bullied by them π
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When I was ten years old we had a Jersey house cow. Her name was Gwenny. She hated my father (wise girl). But whenever I went into her paddock she always came over to me and let me stroke her. π
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cows do have people they’ve fallen out with π
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