With travelling comes strange and amusing stories. This one, though slightly disgusting just highlights the amusement you can look back on, and in this case laugh at myself a couple of years down the line. Did I really shit myself in a broccoli field? Yes!
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!
If you've ever done processed or manual broccoli cutting you will know that a tractor follows you down the countless paddocks of broccoli, you just cut it as fast as you can and throw it into the crates on the tractor. The thing is, once you start a row, you have to go to the end. There is no respite - so basically carry water in your pocket and sip it at the end of each row, where you can also go to the toilet if you need. Admittedly this is much easier for guys.
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.
Next morning was a 7am start as usual and nothing was a problem. After lunch however, we were about half way through a stretch of broccoli when I knew I needed to go to the toilet, of the number 2 variety. It was the first time this had happened while on a broccoli field. Our boss and top lady, Rebecca Gaby was working alongside us that day and I yelled over, "I'll catch you up, I need a shit" and off I ran. Initially I was going to run all the way back to the portable toilet but it was about a kilometre walk, so I pulled over at the side and crouched down in the paddock. It was out of control let's just say.
Everything came out at once in the broccoli paddock and my trousers, boots and pants had been left over to the side. I tried using leaves to clean my ass but it wasn't enough so I used my underpants to wipe it and dumped them behind a tree near a fence. At this point my team came back up and appeared at the top of the hill. Half naked, I quickly put my jeans and waterproofs back on and ran back to continue cutting the broccoli!
Apart from that it was a good day in the field. Later on that night, I washed my clothes, shamelessly realising I couldn't tell the difference between shit and mud. 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!
If you've ever done processed or manual broccoli cutting you will know that a tractor follows you down the countless paddocks of broccoli, you just cut it as fast as you can and throw it into the crates on the tractor. The thing is, once you start a row, you have to go to the end. There is no respite - so basically carry water in your pocket and sip it at the end of each row, where you can also go to the toilet if you need. Admittedly this is much easier for guys.
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.
Next morning was a 7am start as usual and nothing was a problem. After lunch however, we were about half way through a stretch of broccoli when I knew I needed to go to the toilet, of the number 2 variety. It was the first time this had happened while on a broccoli field. Our boss and top lady, Rebecca Gaby was working alongside us that day and I yelled over, "I'll catch you up, I need a shit" and off I ran. Initially I was going to run all the way back to the portable toilet but it was about a kilometre walk, so I pulled over at the side and crouched down in the paddock. It was out of control let's just say.
Everything came out at once in the broccoli paddock and my trousers, boots and pants had been left over to the side. I tried using leaves to clean my ass but it wasn't enough so I used my underpants to wipe it and dumped them behind a tree near a fence. At this point my team came back up and appeared at the top of the hill. Half naked, I quickly put my jeans and waterproofs back on and ran back to continue cutting the broccoli!
Apart from that it was a good day in the field. Later on that night, I washed my clothes, shamelessly realising I couldn't tell the difference between shit and mud. Don't Stop Living!
About the Author:
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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