Cows

Today we were cleaning up a big metal barn full of every bit of wooden or metal junk you can imagine, the more potential for injury the better. One corner of it is supposed to become a kitchen. This would replace our existing "outdoor kitchen", which consists of a metal table, portable gas cooking stove, a few utensils and a hosepipe suspended above a ceramic bowl. The barn is pulsing with filth so it's going to be a hell of a job.

We were doing what we could - which unfortunately isn't the experienced handyman job Buzzel seems to expect - when we spied a stray cow in the yard. Mark went out to open the gate and let it join the rest of its herd outside in the neighbouring fields. 

I'm sweeping up rat droppings when I vaguely hear some noise. I step into the doorway to see what's going on. The image I'm presented with is of Mark walking slowly towards me, shaking his head dejectedly, while a blurred brown mass of about forty cows streaks past in the background - up the driveway and into the compound and gardens beyond. Blank incomprehension turns into astonishment, then into frustration, then incredulous wonder at how Mark could have messed up so colossally. Instead of one cow out, forty were in. I decide to take action, clueless as to the size of the task that lay ahead.

After perhaps half an hour of dashing about waving a stick, screaming obscenities and plunging knee-deep into a shitbog in a crazed attempt to herd the cows back towards the gates, my bitter distress at the lack of progress transforms into amused appreciation at the absurdity of the situation. This is reinforced all the more hilariously when Buzzel comes bursting out of nowhere onto the path in front of me, brandishing a staff in both hands above his head and ululating mad, foreign howls. Mangy old Fucker is of course at his heels, doing his part and barking his wizened lungs out at the huge brown beasts trotting around the lake in front.

If the compound is similar to a resistance refuge in Half-Life 2, this cinematic moment was like the old shotgun-wielding priest appearing out of the blue right at the moment when you're most in need of help.

He didn't make much difference though. We spent another short while roaming about in vain, chasing the surprisingly nimble animals. Eventually, we decided just to let them graze and relax for a bit. Then, later, it was easier to usher them out, calm and organised, using walkie-talkies like real handymen of the country.