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These are just fleeting thoughts from the heartland of the UK's colonial dustbin somewhere beyond the wall of sleep. Odd bits of music and so-called worldly wisdom may creep in from time to time. Don't expect too much and you won't feel let down. As ever AI and old age are to blame. I'll just leave it there ...
Sunday, October 14, 2018
The funny smell of agriculture
Normally I quite like the (preferably faint) smell of dung on the fields. It's a pleasant, familiar, evocative odour that's strangely enjoyable. It says countryside and promotes a sense of wholesomeness even if it's only cow shit sprayed across a field. Anyway these days our local fields are smelling like they've been burned, trampled and raised by rampaging Vikings. Fields of fire. Fields of fracking maybe. Deep beneath the tranquil Fife countryside, there's a raging fire ... and the mice are escaping and heading in our direction.
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