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.
So one day I was on a big farm in a place called East Sassafras, northern Tasmania. There was a hill in the field, and beyond the hill you would be miles away from the base. The base is where you park you car, munch your lunch and yes, there is a portable toilet there! I had become quite an experienced broccoli cutter...
This story is taken from the 18th March 2010. I know that because the previous night was St. Patrick's Night and I was down the local Irish Pub Molly Malone's partying with Chaz Fitzsimmons, also a Northern Irishman living in Tasmania.
We got up and started work at 7am and everything was fine. After lunch though we had got about half way through one of the rows when mother nature was calling. I needed a poo. This was the first time I had been in this situation on a broccoli field. Rebecca Gaby our boss was a great lady and was luckily working alongside us that day - I shouted over at her "Rebecca I'm off - I need a poo!" and off I ran - I had thought about running all the way back to the actual portable toilet but it was miles away, so I had to just crouch down at the side of the paddock. Things had got out of control let's just say!
A few seconds after taking my trousers and boots off which wasn't easy I then had to use leaves from broccoli plants to clean myself. It wasn't enough so my underpants were used as toilet roll and then dumped behind a tree near the fence. It was then that my team and tractor appeared back at the top of the hill. They knew I had ran for a shit, but now they saw me with my trousers down, running desperately back to cut more 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.
So one day I was on a big farm in a place called East Sassafras, northern Tasmania. There was a hill in the field, and beyond the hill you would be miles away from the base. The base is where you park you car, munch your lunch and yes, there is a portable toilet there! I had become quite an experienced broccoli cutter...
This story is taken from the 18th March 2010. I know that because the previous night was St. Patrick's Night and I was down the local Irish Pub Molly Malone's partying with Chaz Fitzsimmons, also a Northern Irishman living in Tasmania.
We got up and started work at 7am and everything was fine. After lunch though we had got about half way through one of the rows when mother nature was calling. I needed a poo. This was the first time I had been in this situation on a broccoli field. Rebecca Gaby our boss was a great lady and was luckily working alongside us that day - I shouted over at her "Rebecca I'm off - I need a poo!" and off I ran - I had thought about running all the way back to the actual portable toilet but it was miles away, so I had to just crouch down at the side of the paddock. Things had got out of control let's just say!
A few seconds after taking my trousers and boots off which wasn't easy I then had to use leaves from broccoli plants to clean myself. It wasn't enough so my underpants were used as toilet roll and then dumped behind a tree near the fence. It was then that my team and tractor appeared back at the top of the hill. They knew I had ran for a shit, but now they saw me with my trousers down, running desperately back to cut more 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.
