When you live in a community like ours you must have a sense of humour. An undercover sense of humour mind! Wouldn’t do you any good to snigger openly at the comings and goings of people and situations.
Our community is pretty diverse and divided up in many categories and districts. Each farmer comes with his own Handbook passed down from generation to generation. The rules are simple and unyielding in each handbook.
Now, don’t be obtuse, I’m not talking about an ancient, weathered leather-bound book lying collecting dust in the farmers office. No, I’m talking metaphorically. Each farmer thinks he’s right. Each farmer believes in his farming method and his way of doing things. To the point of secretly scoffing another farmer behind closed doors, you know…. quietly to his wife: “So and So is going to see his gat if he carries on like that!”. Some have confided in John and I and I’ve heard others confiding in each other, you know confidentially like.
And “This one” will listen and then confide in “That one“. All confidentially. Until everyone in the district knows the confidential secret.
That’s how it works here. I use the word confidentially ad nauseam. To be ironic. To be cynical. Perhaps to even mock.
We are all guilty of it here.
I mean last week someone told me a story in confidence that I’d told her confidentially the week before.
It came full circle.