To HSE or not to HSE?
24 May 2002
by Anne Goode
Debbie
looked thoughtfully from the 9 button on the Â鶹ԼÅÄ Farm yard office telephone
to the accident book and out to the scene in the lower yard. Then she
looked back to the 9 button, over to the book, and back to the 9 button
again.
She drew in a quick breath. This was trickier than she thought it would
be, but what else could she do? If she called the Emergency Services,
and made a careful report of events whilst waiting for them to arrive,
it wouldn't get the lambing shed mucked out, would it? And if, as they
were bound to, the Inquest, Police investigation, court appearances etc
were carried out thoroughly, they wouldn't get the cereal spraying done,
or do the top-dressing of the June silage fields, or make the second draw
of lambs and worm the rest, or double check Brian's IACS calculations,
or replace the newly vandalised honesty box on the cross-country course,
would it?
And how could she make the story that Matt Crawford had stood directly
under the shear-grab attachment on the front-end-loader of Â鶹ԼÅÄ Farm's
third biggest tractor whilst a half-ton wodge of stale silage from the
lambing shed was accidentally dropped directly on him sound remotely convincing?
Especially as it wasn't true.
He had, instead, oiled his way over on foot from the Village, and she
had instinctively shoved the tractor into high range, opened the throttle,
and sped at him before pushing the tip lever - as any same woman would.
"Nah," she said to herself, "there's no point. He'll simply have to go
into the foundations of the expensive new incinerator we're having to
install cos the EU won't let us bury fallen stock on-farm - just like
Simon."
So off she went to tidy up the yard.
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