Singing in the parlour : both sides buttered
A radio sits in the crux of two pipelines at the top of the parlour. It is tipped to its side and secured by a piece of baling twine. Dust clogs the speakers and the quality of the reception changes every time a cow walks past it. It adds to the breathing sounds of the parlour and has a calming effect on both the cattle and the farmer, but more than that, it has a tendency to get us singing, whether we mean to or not. The desk in the office has a pile of cassettes purchased in the brief time when tapes were outdated but still could be found in bundles for a few dollars. This radio, however, only plays the stacks of disks around it. The CDs work for a while before being dropped on the concrete or getting wet from the high pressure hose, collecting skips that you eventually forget aren't actually part of the song.