Another amusing travel and work story coming up now. I can laugh about this when I look back even if it is rather disgusting. So one day at work in a broccoli farm, I needed a shit...
A few years back I landed a job working on a number of broccoli farms in Tasmania, I was all over the place on unknown and remote farms and II genuinely had fun doing it!
Basically you walk down endless broccoli paddocks cutting as much broccoli that is ready as you can and you fire it into crates on the back of the tractor which follows you. Once you have started one of the rows, you have to finish it. You can't really leave half way through a row and you need to carry water with you. At the end of each row you can go for a leak or a shit if you need to. I do admit this is easier if you are male!
On this particular day I was working out at East Sassafras in the north of Tasmania. It was a massive farm. While cutting we worked our way up a large hill, beyond which you disappeared into wilderness and were miles from your base (at your base you park your car, eat lunch and there's even a portable toilet). At this point I was an experienced broccoli cutter.
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.
The morning ran smoothly however and from 7am to 1pm we worked before having a quick lunch. Just after lunch and we had got half way through a long row of broccoli when I realised I needed a shit - yes it was ready to come out. Our boss was Rebecca Gaby and she was alongside us that day so I shouted over to her that I needed to go. So off I went - initially running all the way towards the portable toilet before realising it was too far to go, so time had beaten me...
Just after taking my trousers and boots off I used leaves from broccoli plants to clean my bum. It wasn't really enough so my underpants had to be used as toilet roll and were then dumped in behind a tree near the fence. Just then my team and tractor arrived back at the top of the hill. They had known I had ran to take a shit, but now they could see me running with my trousers down desperately trying to make it back to cut more broccoli.
It was a decent day in the field apart from that incident. That night, I obviously washed all of my clothes, suddenly admitting that I couldn't tell the difference between mud and shit. Don't Stop Living!
A few years back I landed a job working on a number of broccoli farms in Tasmania, I was all over the place on unknown and remote farms and II genuinely had fun doing it!
Basically you walk down endless broccoli paddocks cutting as much broccoli that is ready as you can and you fire it into crates on the back of the tractor which follows you. Once you have started one of the rows, you have to finish it. You can't really leave half way through a row and you need to carry water with you. At the end of each row you can go for a leak or a shit if you need to. I do admit this is easier if you are male!
On this particular day I was working out at East Sassafras in the north of Tasmania. It was a massive farm. While cutting we worked our way up a large hill, beyond which you disappeared into wilderness and were miles from your base (at your base you park your car, eat lunch and there's even a portable toilet). At this point I was an experienced broccoli cutter.
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.
The morning ran smoothly however and from 7am to 1pm we worked before having a quick lunch. Just after lunch and we had got half way through a long row of broccoli when I realised I needed a shit - yes it was ready to come out. Our boss was Rebecca Gaby and she was alongside us that day so I shouted over to her that I needed to go. So off I went - initially running all the way towards the portable toilet before realising it was too far to go, so time had beaten me...
Just after taking my trousers and boots off I used leaves from broccoli plants to clean my bum. It wasn't really enough so my underpants had to be used as toilet roll and were then dumped in behind a tree near the fence. Just then my team and tractor arrived back at the top of the hill. They had known I had ran to take a shit, but now they could see me running with my trousers down desperately trying to make it back to cut more broccoli.
It was a decent day in the field apart from that incident. That night, I obviously washed all of my clothes, suddenly admitting that I couldn't tell the difference between mud and shit. Don't Stop Living!
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Want to find out more about broccoli farming travel stories, then visit Jonny Blair's site on how to work and travel with the odd shit broccoli story around the world.
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