ScalandsFarm: That's what I call recycling...

Despite barely having enough room to swing even a kitten up here, (We have sh*t, bales and “stuff” bloody everywhere!) I have decided to look after an old taxi. It no doubt did it’s rounds careering around London at some point but has now been “retired” and sits in between our two bottom yards for the purposes of guarding expensive cereals from sharp-toothed rodent predators. I could have spent a few hundred quid on a galvanised bin to do the same thing but it would have either been too small for the job or too big to put in the space I have. At the end of the day, I cannot justify such a luxury anyway.

Mice and rats are relentless, gnawing little buggers who always seem to find a way in, which means despite the relative Fort Knox style measures employed to the keep them out, tomorrow when I go to feed the animals there will be a teeny mouse inside, clinging onto the steering wheel playing “taxis” and squeaking “Where to guv?”, just to take the piss!

It will continue to be a source of spares for the donors, Jehan and Lucy, as they have just bought a replacement taxi, but as long as its driveable I shall have fun giving it a spin in the fields every now and then when I’ve had a few too many. I might even pretend to be a taxi-driver and incessantly talk bullsh*t and make racist comments whilst also saying “You nevva guess who I ad in ere last week!?” to distract the imaginary customer from the fact that I’m taking the longest route possible around the field.

Here’s some pics anyway...