Farm life is a manly world of hard work and self-sufficiency. As such I felt right at home. Is someone laughing? Whilst there, as well as ridding a wall of a vast, dangerous, and, some would say, carnivorous, Ivy infestation, I sifted rocks, hacked down nettles as tall as a short human, encountered all manner of wild beasties, and, people, I repaired my own hat. There are people – many people – who faced with the non-fastenability of their hat would throw said hat to the ground and declare it lost. I used to be such a guy. Now, I reach for the pliers, then the hammer and a piece of wood and I repair that hat and then I place it upon my head and declare, people, I fixed this!!!
Meanwhile my father has almost-single-handedly extended the house, repaired several barns and dug metres and metres of trenches. But, people, forget perspective: look at the hat.
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