Milker for hire in the Saudi kingdom

This, I fear, could well be the last piece of writing I will ever complete for this paper.

Because an opportunity has presented itself in a far off land, an opportunity that I’d be a right fool to ignore.

So farewell my friends, it’s Saudi Arabia for me.

I could be gone by the

weekend.

A job opportunity has arisen in the Saudi kingdom that has me in a tremendous state of excitement.

The job entails the milking of 105,000 cows, and I feel it’s a job tailor made for me.

I read all about it in a recent farming advertisement, and to tell you the truth, I have thought about little else since.

Yerra, the money on offer was so mighty that I spent the evening dancing around the kitchen in delight.

It’s a job that would suit me down to the ground, there’s no doubt about that.

I’m a farmer after all, with vast experience when it comes to the milking of the humble cow.

I milked 20 cows on this farm for well over a decade.

I know all about failing cell counts and treating cows with mastitis issues.

I know all about forgetting to wash out the bulk tank and finding out too late that the cooler isn’t half as cool as it should be.

When it comes to milking cows, I’ve forgotten more than most fellows ever knew in the first place.

I’m the fellow for the job, for nothing would surprise me.

Now all I need is to get my passport in order.

Of course, I won’t step into the task of milking 105,000 cows without a few conditions attached.

Make no mistake, I won’t march blindly onto the sandy fields of Arabia without a few terms and conditions of my own.

For starters, I will insist on having a good cattle dog.

Be he a pup or an older hound, it matters little.

All that matters is that he’s there to round up the 105,000 cows every morning and evening.

A good dog would be half the battle.

I have no intention of running over the dunes of Arabia in pursuit of flighty cows.

A dog is what I need, otherwise the deal is off here and now.

And I will also want to see the milking facilities first hand before I get going proper.

It’s no good telling me over the phone or in a fancy letter that things are top notch.

Be it in Cork, Arabia or Timbuktu, there will be no cow milked until I get to grips with a cluster or two.

Is it a stall or a parlour or what the hell will I be working in for the foreseeable future?

How many units?

What size is the bulk tank?

I have 101 questions, for whether ’tis 20 or 105,000 cows, the back can only take so much.

And of course I’ll need to know at what time of the day or night the milk lorry arrives to collect the milk.

For I have a no interest at all in hearing him hurtling into my Arabian yard at two in the morning, and he waking the house with noise and racket.

This round-the-clock collection malarkey has become very common in my neck of the woods. And I think it’s an abomination.

I will insist, once set up in Arabia, that the milk be collected at a sensible hour of the day, or else ’tis down the drain the lot will go.

And beyond that there is nothing more I’ll need really, only to be left get on with the job of successfully milking 105,000 cows.