Anyone who has tried to farm on a small scale with limited resources will know, it ain't an easy practice. We moved from the city, to a small-holding when I was child. I for one had never seen the likes of it. The small community rubbing their noses into every possible detail of the new ‘city' people (what difference it makes in the end I have no idea). Within a week we had every conceivable ‘farmer' giving us advice on what to plant when and how. But we were not going to plant anything, oh no, we bought cattle.

Cattle! It didn't take long before the beasts were breaking fences and stampeding my mother's delicate garden. I tell you, it sounded like the Spanish Armada galloping on the concrete outside the house. Not only did they utterly demolish the garden, but they made short work of the drinking troughs too. Kicking them half to death. We ate them. Yes, amidst much wailing and gnashing of teeth from my mother and I, they were packed off to the freezer. It was traumatic, but I suppose part of the deal.

Next we tried pigs. They too escaped to the garden. Now a pig is not as cute as it looks. Extremely vicious when threatened, we managed to back ourselves into the kitchen door, defending ourselves with garden chairs. I didn't feel too bad when they too were demoted to the freezer. After all, I was pretty sure it was them or us in the end.

I got a horse. I tried to ride. I suppose after a few lessons I got the hang of it, but it was no mean feat. He mainly took me riding rather than the other way around. One night before a storm we tried to get him to his stable, but to no avail. He snatched the tit-bits from our tired hands and galloped in circles till eventually when he was caught, he dragged my dad for meters before he let go of the reign.

The last ditch effort at farming was the cabbages we planted. I never want to see another cabbage in a long, long time. We had 6 000 seedlings, which is probably not a lot considering the scale on which most farmers work. The difference was, we had no labour and no implements. My fiancé and I planted each one ourselves. First I bent over to dig the hole and he would bury the seedling. After a time I sat down and shuffled from one hole to the next. Blistered backsides were the order of the day. On day two of cabbage planting, a friend came to help. Now this friend is given to rather outrageous ideas that sometimes, in the face of hard labour, resemble lunacy. She planted a total of 20 cabbages, praying for each ones energy fields as she went along. The tired mongrels already feeling a little defeated from the day before listened to the incessant babbling about the souls of the earthworms we had slaughtered. On day three the irrigation packed up. It was the hottest day of the year and I watched as our hard work shriveled under the suns beating rays. I was not going to condemn my hard work by doing nothing. I took the hose-pipe and watered them by hand!

The moles arrived. Moles by the dozens lifted hundreds of cabbages in their infancy. The horror...farming on a small scale was not for me (I lie, farming, is not for me).

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