What Bert Calls Work And I Call Playing

That big old evergreen was doing nothing to enhance the garden so we decided it had to go. Bert just pulled it out with the tractor. And trailed it to the bonfire site. Or what would be the bonfire site if bonfires weren't illegal. So we don't have them. No sirree!

When the tree came out we found dozens of rotten eggs. Dympna had been laying there for ages and we hadn't realised. I tried to think of a use for them but couldn't think of anyone I wanted to pelt.

Tractor Tales

Bert and a few of his friends went to that Gig on the Bann in Portglenone last night. They said it was good, but not as good as last year. I picked them up outside the Wild Duck sometime after midnight. We did not see any tractors in Portglenone itself, just the one young reveller in Ahoghill returning from a night out.

When Bert was sixteen he used to take this girl out for a spin on his dad's wee Fergie. It was a pity he cowped it, cutting capers to impress his lady friend. Thankfully Bert and his date were unhurt but the tractor was wrecked. It would have been worth a fortune today. But that's young boys for you. They're at everything.