You’ve been here for ten days. Nice and cozied up here in the hills. Probably should have put more thought into your work clothes, because though they are highly durable, comfortable, and washable, tennis skirts are a ridiculous looking garments to do farm work in. There you were, yesterday, cooking in a tennis skirt and a black spaghetti-strap top, and you thought you might check something outside. So, you pulled on your work boots and went outside. One thing led to another… the sun was actually shining for a change, so you went right to work with a chainsaw, and then started cutting pallets on a table saw for winter firewood. Douglas happened to pull up the driveway with one of his employees, to re-fuel with vegetable oil. You continued manhandling the pallets in the skirt, with sawdust flying all down your shirt. No safety glasses, either. Every safety rule broken in the book, as there are no switches or guards on the saw either.
Douglas told you later that day that his employee had asked, ”Who was that girl at the table saw?” Douglas likes to joke around, so he told the guy, ”You know, I’m not actually sure. I think she’s one of the forestry workers or something.” The guy said, ”Do ALL the forestry workers look like that?”
Anyway…Douglas wondered if you were getting cabin fever, and insisted on taking you off-site to a place called Victoria’s Way, which is a little sculpture park. Some Irish guy has a statue commissioned each year from India. Very cool statues. A little nutty. Pictures are posted on facebook.com.
Douglas also took you to his warehouse, where he runs a plaster molding company. Whole place is covered in white dust. Silicon molds everywhere. Sort of a fun, messy looking place to work. Just don’t ever throw a coke party there.
Niel was home for the evening–their son. He was totally out of it. Kid’s been partying his ass off for weeks, and his head is sort of all over the place. The three of you were sitting around the kitchen table, and the following exchange occurred:
Douglas: Mushrooms? We have loads of them.
Douglas: *points to a kitchen drawer by your feet* Right in there. Hundreds of them.
Niel: No there’s not. Mom took them out.
Douglas: Yeah, and I stole them from her, did some, and put them back.
Niel: Ok, well, I took some out after you put them back.
Douglas: Did you?!
Niel: But Mom had done a whole bunch of them–and I think she hid some.
Douglas: She’s very possessive about her drugs.
Niel: Well, I took a bunch out, but I know she took the last of them.
Douglas: They’re all gone? There were hundreds of them! Are you serious?
Niel: Don’t we have any other drugs?
Douglas: Sure we do.
Niel: What have you got?
Douglas: MDMA. Coke. Grass, of course.
Niel: YOU have MDMA? You’ve had it this whole time? I’ve been trying to get an ounce for ages. I just don’t have the money.
Douglas: You know where to get an ounce?
Niel: I could have one in an hour, if you front the 700 quid. Where are your drugs?
Maria: Don’t tell him. Sounds like you guys just steal everything you’ve got from each other.
Douglas: Wait here. I’ll get them.
And so it goes… this whole family steals drugs from each other. Douglas brought out about 1.5 grams of coke, all in a single lovely-looking rock. He also had a couple lines of mollie in a camera film can. Niel eyed it appreciatively, then proceeded to beg his dad again and again to finance and ounce of mollie. No dice. Douglas proceeded to carve out 4 giant lines of coke and offer them out. Niel passed in favor of a joint. He doesn’t understand why you don’t like grass; you don’t understand why he doesn’t like blow. For the record, Irish coke isn’t even worth doing. Probably why mollie is so popular here.
Marlene is gone until Saturday, and it’s been a showdown between you and Douglas over the last loaf of her homemade bread. Since you were about to run out, Douglas decided to force Niel to make more bread. Unfortunately, Niel has been so tanked the past couple weeks that his attention span is basically non-existant. Took him 4 hours to remember to finish 2/3 of his beer. So, the dough he made didn’t rise, and you were stuck this morning with loads of this awful sticky stuff you didn’t want to waste. You produced three Quasimoto loaves with the stuff, and then decided to redeem the whole bread-making operation with your yeast-free Irish brown bread recipe, which turned out much nicer, and definitely sweeter.
Douglas has given you a short history of the other Wwoofers who have come to stay on the farm. He said that there were a few that were awful, and couple that were good, and that most people don’t like working up here. They don’t like the laid back nature, the eat-whenever-you-feel-like-it policy, the drugs, the hippie stuff… but you don’t really see what’s not to like. Probably why you and Douglas get along famously.