I went grape picking at the weekend; a chap I know was short of some people so I turned up on the Saturday. There were about ten of us, so pairs would work each side of a row of (what else?) Barbera vines. Most of them were locals and I imagine the average age was around 75. I was working with Bruna (78, still blessed with some of her own teeth) and I think I was in. I wanted to take her photograph but she was shy.
We started at eight in the morning, stopped for a light lunch (above, and that's not Bruna in the middle by the way but it is a woman) at twelve and then back to work at one. At four I had to throw in the towel, the seven hours of being bent over nearly double had rendered me utterly exhausted, had done for my back and my ability to see straight. They waved me goodbye all the Italians, still bent over, picking, laughing, chatting, sometimes singing*, scurrying around with their plastic baskets, in perpetual motion, the sun beating down from a cloudless sky. Bastards. The thing is I had done it a few years ago and hardly batted an eyelid. Time for a major review of my physical condition? Fat chance with Fred pitching up on Friday, bright-eyed and ready for it. I wonder whether he will have an, er, travelling companion?
*Sorry for the Under the Tuscan Sun moment.
13 comments:
What a marvellous evocative post. But before Diplo or Toby get in, can we have the low-down on that crawler tractor?
Not far behind you Peter. I did think it looked just the right size for the Combo acres. Ron. What you REALLY need is a tractyor like thi for yourself. Then we can all play on it when we come to see you and run over your other foot.
Yeah, go on Ron: buy a tractor. You know you want to.
Yeah, you do Ron Ron, you do Ron Ron. Actually I think Fred's already said that six months ago.
Hey, hope I can still pick my own grapes at 78...go 'ed girl!
Vinogirl, you know I'll come and help you.
Oh Lord, Ashley's off again.
And where the hell's Alice? She could have come with me to Combolan. Still can, come to think of it, but only if she's quick. Alice? Alice? Are you there?
I meant 'Comboland', obviously. 'Combolan' is a little known and largely useless cough mixture.
Lord (?) Ashley, I'm honoured :)
We're in a curious world of half-coincidence here. I like the idea that Combolan is a cough medicine, and that the a pseudonym of the author Ruth Rendell, Barbara Vine, is so like Ron's local grape.
They probably had better food too than the awful muck the mexican pickers in Napa eat.
Mr Ashley warned me away from you Fred. Said my intentions towards you weren't honourable and that I couldn't cook. I agreed with the first but not the second. So my energies are going into the new H***a. Less fluxing.
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