We are basking in glorious weather here at the moment. I went for my walk early this morning before it got too hot.
Words you never thought you'd have to say in Ireland.
This is the sight that greeted me.
No photography can capture the smell of sweet fresh hay in the morning air. It brings be right back to my childhood days. For holidays, my brothers John and Finian were packed off to Granda Lynam's farm while Geraldine, Jacqueline and I were sent over to Granny Keena's in Milltownpass. A formidable lady.
However us girls were allowed down to the farm when Uncle Maurice was saving the hay. We were set free in the field to play among the bales. At that time the bales were cuboid.
Spot the primary school teacher who has taught 3-D shapes!
They were stacked in threes in a tepee shape so we used to play hide-and-seek. Between the heat and the straw dust you'd be nearly suffocated but you'd never come out unless caught. Once the trailer was stacked we were ready to go. The bales would be the height of the walls of a house. We clamoured up to the top using the ropes that were holding them together. The top layer was narrower so we had a place to sit. The only instruction I got as the youngest in the group was
"Noeleen, hold on tight to the rope!"
And off we went.
Every bump that we crossed had us rising a few inches into the air, screaming with exhilaration. This made Uncle Maurice drive all the faster. And don't get me started on him driving under the low lying branches so we had to crouch down so as not to be swept off.
Health and safety, me arse!
But guess what?
None of us ever fell off or were injured/killed.
Can you imagine attempting to do that today? You would be immediately arrested for child endangerment. Yet to us, it was as scary and exciting as the best Disneyworld ride.
God, I'd hate to be a child growing up in this politically correct and sterile era.