Sinister: Stuart's Dairy

[Stuart "Gold Top" Murdoch]

Today I woke up at half past two in the morning.
There's no chance for a lie in when you have your own
dairy. I put on my wellies and walked out into the
farmyard. There was a strange atmosphere in the
cowshed. The cows looked at me funnily, with anguished
expressions. I stood at the gate for a while before I
went in, trying to work out what was wrong. Then I
realised the strange atmosphere smelled a bit like
yesterday's Chicken Korma and noticed Barbara, the
youngest, most rebellious cow, standing looking
guilty, with a takeaway box hanging off her ear. That
one's trouble alright! Usually she's happy sneaking
into the the lounge when I'm out in the fields and
watching Bargain Hunt, but stealing food is pushing it
too far. And I wanted that curry for my tea. 

I gave her a good telling off. Having such a big
bottom means you have a certain amount of
responsibilty, as I used to say to an old girlfriend
of mine. She was always trumping too. "It was Mick",
she'd say. "Mick's not even here" I'd say. "He's
hiding" she'd say. Grr...

Anyway, with all those fumes in such a small shed, it
would only take one cow to get a bit excited and the
whole thing could explode. She was a bad cow. I gave
her some of the soggiest hay I could find, and she
went into a corner and sulked. She won't make me feel
guilty, though. Not this time.

I'd spent Sunday morning with a spanner and a tuning
fork, tightening up Daisy's udders. Now each teat
plays a different pitch and if I pull them in the
right order I can play the them tune to Terry and
June.

I sang along this afternoon while I was milking and
had a go at playing "Judy and the Dream of Horses."
The cows didn't seem to like it, and Daisy shuffled
about, causing me to miss a B flat. They seem to have
a thing about horses. I think it's an inferiority
complex, what with horses having all the fame and fast
shoes and funny little men sitting on their backs.

Still, I love my cows more than any horse. I love them
more than anything, more than my car, my dog, my cat,
my rat, my Carl, Brian, Dennis, Trevor, and Al. More
than smelly old Isobel. Oh Barbara! I'm so sorry!
Please forgive me! I didn't mean to do bad!

Stuart

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