The ‘fix’ lasted a bare round, requiring me to hop in and out of the cab digging, shoving and swearing as I kept the two discs
revolving before I gave up and finally let them freeze in place. By this stage one was starting to look distinctly warped and I
figured the problem was bigger than a blockage and might require two large spanners to sort it. I finished up in the centre of the
field cutting a few figure eights more or less over the unseeded zone and trundled over to settle on the edge of the paddock.
I rang Bill later in the afternoon and told him at length about what had happened. He was unfazed; he said that all of the discs
were trashed after days of work in roug [