Take one large red Massey Ferguson, add one bonkers driving instructor, stir in 6 bottles of the finest rioja, remove all daylight and replace with a few twinkly stars, combine with a steep gradient, sprinkle on some Irish loopy juice.....
...... and you have a challenge! One, might I say, that I should have had the sense to refuse on the grounds of being life-threatening. But I didn't, perhaps reassured by the knowledge that my GP brother was on hand to deal with any crush injuries.... and that the alcohol would ease any pain.
My training for this challenge was limited, and was delivered by my inebriated brother lying giggling in a bed of nettles with a glass in his hand. He showed me where the seat and the steering wheel and the field were, but omitted the minor details of how to operate the accelerator, clutch, gears or brake. So I guessed, and the large red Massey Ferguson rumbled forward into the night carrying with it my dreams of a new career in the open countryside feeding the nation with wholesome fayre and protecting our agricultural heritage. My dreams were shattered when momentum was beaten by gradient and I started rolling backwards. The lack of braking knowledge suddenly became a pressing issue, so I clutched in desperation at a lever on the floor to my left - the handbrake. The world (and the tractor) started spinning...
Time to get out. Time to marvel at still being alive. Time to tick off another challenge.
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