I Became A Connoisseur Of That Nasty

I Am Never At My Best In The Early Morning, Especially A Cold Morning In The Yorkshire Spring With A Piercing March Wind Sweeping Down From The Fells, Finding Its Way Inside My Clothing, Nipping At My Nose And Ears.

A Farmer Once Told Me One Of The Greatest Luxuries Of His Life Was To Wake Up Early Only To Go Back To Sleep Again.

There Was No Last Animal I Treated. When Young Farm Lads Started To Help Me Over The Gate Into A Field Or A Pigpen, To Make Sure The Old Fellow Wouldn't Fall, I Started To Consider Retiring.

If I Had Been A Little Dog I'd Have Gone Leaping And Gambolling Around The Room Wagging My Tail Furiously.

I Love Writing About My Job Because I Loved It, And It Was A Particularly Interesting One When I Was A Young Man. It Was Like Holidays With Pay To Me.