I've done a lot of random things in my time travelling and with that comes the oddest of tales. If you're eating,put your food away, I'm about to talk about the day I did a shit in a broccoli field. Oh really? Yes!
While living in Tasmania I worked all over the place, doing broccoli farming in 13 different farms! I loved it and urge you all to try farming in Tasmania. Earning a living as a broccoli farmer was great!
If you've ever done processed or manual broccoli cutting you will know that a tractor follows you down the countless paddocks of broccoli, you just cut it as fast as you can and throw it into the crates on the tractor. The thing is, once you start a row, you have to go to the end. There is no respite - so basically carry water in your pocket and sip it at the end of each row, where you can also go to the toilet if you need. Admittedly this is much easier for guys.
One day I was working on a massive farm in East Sassafras, in Northern Tasmania. There was a hill at the top of the paddock and once you go over the hill you are miles from the base (the place where you park your car, eat your lunch and they have a portable toilet there). Now I was an experienced broccoli cutter at this stage.
It was 18th March 2010, the morning after St. Patrick's Night, so a few of our team had gone down to Molly Malone's pub, myself obviously included to meet another travelling Northern Irishman, Chaz Fitzsimmons.
Next morning was a 7am start as usual and nothing was a problem. After lunch however, we were about half way through a stretch of broccoli when I knew I needed to go to the toilet, of the number 2 variety. It was the first time this had happened while on a broccoli field. Our boss and top lady, Rebecca Gaby was working alongside us that day and I yelled over, "I'll catch you up, I need a shit" and off I ran. Initially I was going to run all the way back to the portable toilet but it was about a kilometre walk, so I pulled over at the side and crouched down in the paddock. It was out of control let's just say.
Everything came out at once in the broccoli paddock and my trousers, boots and pants had been left over to the side. I tried using leaves to clean my ass but it wasn't enough so I used my underpants to wipe it and dumped them behind a tree near a fence. At this point my team came back up and appeared at the top of the hill. Half naked, I quickly put my jeans and waterproofs back on and ran back to continue cutting the broccoli!
It was a good day in the field apart from that. Later that night, I washed all my clothes, shamelessly admitting I couldn't tell the difference between mud and shit. Don't Stop Living!
While living in Tasmania I worked all over the place, doing broccoli farming in 13 different farms! I loved it and urge you all to try farming in Tasmania. Earning a living as a broccoli farmer was great!
If you've ever done processed or manual broccoli cutting you will know that a tractor follows you down the countless paddocks of broccoli, you just cut it as fast as you can and throw it into the crates on the tractor. The thing is, once you start a row, you have to go to the end. There is no respite - so basically carry water in your pocket and sip it at the end of each row, where you can also go to the toilet if you need. Admittedly this is much easier for guys.
One day I was working on a massive farm in East Sassafras, in Northern Tasmania. There was a hill at the top of the paddock and once you go over the hill you are miles from the base (the place where you park your car, eat your lunch and they have a portable toilet there). Now I was an experienced broccoli cutter at this stage.
It was 18th March 2010, the morning after St. Patrick's Night, so a few of our team had gone down to Molly Malone's pub, myself obviously included to meet another travelling Northern Irishman, Chaz Fitzsimmons.
Next morning was a 7am start as usual and nothing was a problem. After lunch however, we were about half way through a stretch of broccoli when I knew I needed to go to the toilet, of the number 2 variety. It was the first time this had happened while on a broccoli field. Our boss and top lady, Rebecca Gaby was working alongside us that day and I yelled over, "I'll catch you up, I need a shit" and off I ran. Initially I was going to run all the way back to the portable toilet but it was about a kilometre walk, so I pulled over at the side and crouched down in the paddock. It was out of control let's just say.
Everything came out at once in the broccoli paddock and my trousers, boots and pants had been left over to the side. I tried using leaves to clean my ass but it wasn't enough so I used my underpants to wipe it and dumped them behind a tree near a fence. At this point my team came back up and appeared at the top of the hill. Half naked, I quickly put my jeans and waterproofs back on and ran back to continue cutting the broccoli!
It was a good day in the field apart from that. Later that night, I washed all my clothes, shamelessly admitting I couldn't tell the difference between mud and shit. Don't Stop Living!
About the Author:
Looking to find out how to travel and work your way around the world, then visit Jonny Blair's coll travel, work and lifestyle website Don't Stop Living for amusing stories and great travel tips.
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