D.I.Y.

Clint has man flu. He came into the kitchen this morning to get warm water for the calves and I said,

I thought you’d been up already or I would have fed them.

I wish I’d known that for it was hard rolling out of bed this morning. I’m dying!

What’s up with you?

I ache all over. I feel terrible.

Well don’t worry. I’ll do the calves at lunchtime and I’ll get them tomorrow morning as well.

Sure I’ll have to get up anyway to see to the geese.

But you won’t have to go off your own yard. I’ll do the calves tomorrow.

That would be great. I could do with a morning off.

Meanwhile Bert is lying softly snoring in his cosy warm bed.

He gets up at around eleven o’clock.

Poor Clint is sick again. He’s always poorly, isn’t he?

Huh! Little wonder for sure isn’t he always standing about in some cold hole!

What do you mean? What’s he been at?

Take yesterday – one of the coldest days in the world. He’s standing foundering in an open-sided shed painting oul hen-houses. What need did he have to be at that!

Meanwhile you’re sensibly sitting in front of a warm stove playing your clarinet and as warm and toasty as can be.

Exactly!

But Clint always has to be at something doesn’t he?

Aye. Oul eedjit. D’ye know what Peter says Clint’s version of DIY is?

No. What is it?

Clint’s idea of DIY is Done It Yesterday!

Wouldn’t you wonder what drives him on?