This morning, as she was looking at the place halfway up my arm where the slight tan I have turns into the usual white Scottish flesh, my missus observed that I had a ‘farmer’s tan‘.
Maybe I should go and be a farmer, I suggested.
You already are, she said; you’re an idea farmer…
I really like this idea… planting, cultivating, fertilising, tending, reaping… and sending off to market.
It makes me realise that all the ‘different’ bits and bobs I do aren’t really ‘different’ at all… they’re all part of idea farming.
It also reminds me of Hugh’s brilliant crofting post last year.
And, finally, it means that Helen becomes the farmer’s wife… though I don’t think she’s going to be so keen on that part of the analogy.]]>