Saturday’s for Diggers

Yesterday I got another WhatsApp from my mum. Now, before you think “aw, sweet,” let me confess: my first reaction was a sort of tired grunt/growl combo. Not because I don’t love her — I do! — but because I am rubbish at staying in touch, and she is (understandably) the reigning queen of the “you never call me” guilt trip.

I sighed, picked up the phone, and braced myself. But instead of a passive-aggressive jab, I got, “Ah, glad you called — did you see my message?”

Cue: panic-open of WhatsApp on desktop. Because no, no I had not.

The message? A photo of a tractor. Not just any tractor. A “maybe it’s real, maybe it’s a scam” kind of listing for a New Holland Workmaster 55. My stepdad — retired farmer, land-buyer, tree-planter, digger-collector — wants to know what I think.

Let me rewind for a second.

Three years ago, a tree fell on him. Literally. While checking storm damage in one of the woods he planted, it missed his head by inches but destroyed his shoulder and nerves. The kind of accident that ends in partial paralysis and a long, dark chapter that he’s still slowly rewriting.

Back then, he sold his beloved digger. Now, three years on, he's quietly reaching for joy again — and apparently that joy looks like a second-hand tractor.

So guess who’s test-driving a digger this weekend?

Yeah. Me.

Life is weird. Families are weirder. But if driving a tractor helps bring a little spark back into his world, I’m absolutely here for it.

(Also: if I accidentally buy a tractor, someone please stop me.)