Disco Farming

At the very moment I was trying to recall the last time Mr Smarts and I had been out on one of our date nights  I received this text from him;

“Can you be ready by 6pm?  I managed a last minute booking.”

I couldn’t believe my eyes. Was he telepathic?  I was speechless with delight and didn’t think to ask where he had booked us into.

“Yes!” I texted back. “Of course I can. Fantastic!”

“That’s a relief. I was worried you wouldn’t want to come.”

“Of course I do?” I assured him.  “What should I wear?”

“Not your gumboots. It’s inside tonight.”

“Haha you make me laugh,” I replied.  “See you at 6.”

Feeling like a school girl on her very first date I agonised over what to wear. Unfortunately, being off the grid and with gloomy, grey days, the washing machine had sat unplugged for longer than expected.   So my options were limited but I did manage to find a tight, sparkly, clean little number at the back of the wardrobe. With killer heels it was probably an outfit more suited to the city than the country but hey, it was date night, Mr Smarts deserved a bit of glam.

 As for my hair, well, without a huge amount of sun stored power, using my hair dryer was out of the question.  Thankfully, after a frantic call to my hairdresser, I managed to convince her I was in desperate need of help. By the time Mr Smarts came to collect me I was feeling frisky and fabulous.

 “That’s rather a glamorous look you’ve got going on tonight,” Mr Smarts said as we drove off.

“Don’t you like what I’m wearing?” I asked in dismay.

“Of course I do,” he  assured me. “But don’t you think it’s a bit over the top?”

“Who cares if it is?” I said.  “I haven’t felt this good in ages.”

“That’s all that matters then,” he smiled.  “You know, I’m really surprised you agreed to come tonight.  You’ve really changed since living out here.

“What do you mean?” I asked alarmed.  “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

“Definitely a good thing. Not that there was anything wrong with you before,” he hastened to add. “But you’ve really embraced this new life we have.  I mean, who would have thought you’d be happy going to a farm mapping course.  You of all people Kooky.”

What was he talking about? A farm mapping course? This wasn’t date night! This was something entirely different. I racked my brains but the only conversation I could remember about maps was Mr Smarts telling me something about the GPS. I presumed he was talking about the GPS in the car which he despises with a passion, not a mapping course. I felt very foolish

“I’m really proud of you Kooks,” he said fondly as he parked the car in front of the local hall where a group of newbie farmers, just like us, were waiting to be taught the marvels of farm mapping.

Not one of them was dressed as spectacularly nor as sparkly as I was though.  Someone even joked I reminded them of a disco ball and wished they were wearing sunglasses. But I had the last laugh because, it turns out I am an absolute whiz at mapping.

I was so clever in fact, that I acquired parcels of land from neighboring farms and mapped them in our own boundary.  So instead of a mere fifty acres we ended up with three hundred and fifty thousand acres.  Wow! We were super rich for a few minutes. And that’s not all.

 I hadn’t realized the close association between my interior design skills and my farm mapping skills which resulted in me winning first prize for the most colorful farm boundary.  My bubble was quickly burst when Mr Smarts won a  prize for answering a technical question no one else had been able to answer, in the history of the farm mapping course.  Pfft.

Do you have date night, if so could you give Mr Smarts a few ideas.  Thanks in anticipation x