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A Mucky Night at the Pig Farms

A Mucky Night at the Pig Farms

Setting off at midnight was a bit later than I'd planned, I'd not started getting ready early enough which was annoying, as I'd planned this evening for weeks. The night was not as cold as I thought it would feel with the outside thermometer reading only seven degrees C. I guess a bit disappointing for late April, but there was not a breath of wind, which would be very welcome. Hopefully I had worn enough clothing to keep warm, but so not so much to cook later on in the journey. It was very quiet cycling through the village and out on the road down to the first farm, but midnight on a Thursday, I'd expect that. I'd decided to take the quickest route there, along one of the main roads out of the village. It's a minor road and would be busy at peak times, but I just saw a couple of vehicles during the twenty-minute ride. The diffused moonlight was just enough to see where I was going without the bike lights, which was a good sign that I'd be able to see well enough when getting to and down on the farms.

I turned off the main road and headed down a single-track road that snaked its way behind the first farm. The farm was about a quarter of a mile south of the track, across a large unplanted field. I'd been down this track earlier in the week and tried to get a look at the muck store area with some binoculars. I'd seen there was some muck there, but exactly how much was difficult to judge? I was soon at the place where I'd planned to hop the verge and stash my bike and cycling gear in the nearby ditch. Without the sound of the wind in my ears and gentle crunch of the tyres on gravel, I stood still took in my surroundings. With just my breathing and a little pumping of blood in my ears to break the near silence, it certainly was a quiet night. It should be a fairly easy walk down the hedge-line towards the corner of the farm complex where the pig sheds were located. In the diffused moonlight, I could just about make out the dark shadow-like area that was the farm. And there were no building lights that I could see, which is a very good sign. Walking down the field edge, I scanned around for any signs of activity in the nearby fields and tracks. All was very quiet. Stopping at a bend in the hedge, about a hundred yards diagonally from the muck storage area, I could see the three large pig sheds were in complete darkness. I planned to stashed my fleece and jogging bottoms here in the vegetation, intending to go further on with just the hoodie over my wetsuit. If I needed to get away quickly, it was a visible place to head for and get some cover, while being able to grab my stashed travelling clothes.

Suitably stripped, I stood for a while listening and looking around. I car passed along the main road in front of the farm, it's light illuminating the trees and blinking through the roadside hedges. There were no lights on at the farm that I could tell, no sounds of activity, just the occasional grunt and squeal of the pigs. No activity in the nearby fields either. All looks good and time to head to the sheds and muck storage area. I was now getting close to the sheds and the first feelings real excitement started to rise, especially as the familiar smell of pigs was now very noticeable. At the field edge, I quietly made my way through the scrubby vegetation to the back of the muck storage retaining wall. Making my way along to the end of the wall, I was about to go round, when I heard faint voices, from what appeared to be the direction of the far shed! Stopping in my tracks, I slowly edged back towards the cover of the wall and hunkered down to take stock of this unexpected situation. Straining to hear over my pounding heart, it was certainly sounded like someone talking, but not normally? I had some cover from the retaining wall, so was not too concerned about being easily spotted. Listening further, it sounded like someone talking on a radio show, a DJ, or whatever? It certainly sounded like it was coming from the end shed, the third one, which was a newly put up, but seemingly a pig-free shed, as the concrete yard in front was white and muck-free. I couldn't imagine someone was still working in the shed at 1am and had the radio on, but I guess there's always the chance? I needed to find out if it was just a radio, or I'd have to scrub this visit, and I did not want to do that. The pig sheds had floodlights on the gable ends, but from a previous visit, didn't appear to have any automatic PIR sensors triggering them off. Working my way round the new concrete yard towards the far long side of the shed, the sound was louder and definitely coming from inside. The shed end doors were closed, so I could not see in. Hopping up on some building materials along the side of the shed, I could get a peek in via the ventilation slats. The shed was dark inside and while I could tell the direction of the sound on the radio, I could not see anything. I guess someone must have left it on, so no need to worry - I hope?

Working my way back round to the end of the muck store retaining wall, where the fair-sized heap levelled out, something terrier-sized, grunted and shot off in to the field from where I'd come. Freezing at the sudden movement and noise in front of me, I was taken a bit by surprise. But I soon realised it was just an animal of some sort that had been bedding down on the dried straw and I'd spooked it, and it had spooked me. Thinking for a few moments, couldn't say for certain what it was. I don't think it was a dog, didn't look like a dog. Wasn't a fox, don't think it was an escaped pig, too small, not pink enough, so possibly a badger? This is turning out to be an eventful. It didn't bite me, or create merry hell, so on to explore the muck. I pulled off the hoodie I had over my wetsuit and stashed it on a nearby straw bale.

In the moonlight, I could see the heap against the retaining wall wasn't particularly high at most, but it was a big long heap of dryish looking straw muck, with wide area of possibly knee-deep black looking slurry at the front. When the pig sheds are scraped through the "manure end" of the pig pens, while there is a bit of straw bedding mixed in, there's also a lot of runny slurry scraped out. The farm workers appear to try and scoop up the slurry and dump it on the top of the dryer straw muck, so it's easier to contain. This can lead to some useful deeper soft muck, or pools of thick slurry in the higher straw stuff. This looked like more slurry than the dryer stuff could handle and it had spread out across the yard.

Time to get in the muck and have an explore, as you never know what you might find. I took my first steps in by the retaining wall, sinking straight though to half way up my shins. I could feel the cool, but not cold, wetness soaking through my socks and gym shoes, and was now getting a proper smell of the muck I was getting in to. I worked my way on to the dryer stuff, which was quite firm and easily took my weight, going up along the back edge of the heap, hoping to find some deeper soft muck. No such luck and the occasional walk into the higher areas of the heap was also disappointing. Giving up on finding some deeper stuff, I made my way down toward the front, where the expanse of slurry started. I soon sank in and some of it was near knee deep. Having a slop around in the slurry revealed there was deeper, thicker stuff round one side, and fresh shallower, runnier stuff, which was a bit more towards the sheds themselves. If the yard lights were to come on, or someone appeared around the corner of the building, I guess being anywhere in the muck heap would be rather visible, but being right at the front of the heap feels very exposed.

At this time, I was not that mucky, just my shins downwards, but it was good enough muck to have a wallow in and then deal with being mucky for the trip to the next farm. Finding the deeper area, I first knelt down in the oozing muck, just to see how cold it really was. It was not that cold and laying back in the muck, I could feel it seeping through the cut in the groin of my wetsuit. I rubbed my crotch and pulled out my cock from inside the wetsuit, rubbing harder it with my now slurry covered fingers. This is what I've been yearning for quite a while. Laying back and pumping my legs, I worked my way down in to the thick slurry, scooping up muck on to my stomach and groin. I need to be careful; I don't want to get carried away and come just yet. I got myself up out of the slurry, with it sliding off me and plopping back in to the hollow I had made. I levelled out some of the hollow with my feet, but I don't think I could completely cover up the marks I've made. Slopping my way over to the runnier stuff near the front, I found an area that was about shin deep and looked very fresh. Laying down in it and wallowing around, I got pretty much completely smothered in stinky pig shit slurry. I could really feel it seeping through the slit in my wetsuit and working its way in to the crack of my arse as I worked my way in as deep as I could, pulling armfuls of the pig shit over me. Rubbing my cock with the slick slurry made it rock hard and I was very close to shooing my load over my slurry-coved stomach. I savoured the moment for a little while, but I needed to go on and explore the other farms. Standing up, I was running with black pig slurry. If I was not wearing a black wetsuit, I'd still be black all over. Scraping off what I could with my hands back in to the pool of slurry, I made my way back to the end of the retaining wall to carefully pick up my hoodie.

I was still a very mucky, stinky mess and needed to clean up a bit before I put my hoodie, joggers and fleece back on for the trip to the next farm. Walking across the field away from the farm complex, I still kept an eye out for any signs of people. It's easy to just focus on moving away and back to somewhere of more safety, and not really being aware of the greater surroundings. Back at the ditch and hedge line, I had a bit more of a hand scrape of my wetsuit and a roll around in the dewy grass. I was never going to get clean, but I might pass for presentable by a passing motorist. Now that I was away from the muck storage area, the strong stink of pig muck I was smelling, was just me. I like this part of a muck wallow trip, as it's a great feeling to be so mucked-up and stinky and be doing more normal stuff... Clothes pulled on, with some difficulty, over my still mucky wetsuit, I headed back up the field to where I'd stashed my bicycle. While steadily marching up the field I was thinking about the next farm visit and the planned route, when I suddenly realised I was walking next to some trees. There weren't any trees where I'd stashed the bike? Deep in my thoughts, I'd cut off the field corner and had walked right past where I'd stashed it. OK, turn around and head back from where I'd just walked - Idiot!

I retrieved my bike from the ditch and got back on to the narrow lane that ran north of the farm. It was now around 1:30 in the morning, but I felt good and eager to go on to the next farm. I rode westwards for a short distance to the place where I planned to again stash my bike. The place had nice easy access and I only had to hop a small ditch from the lane and I was in a small secluded field with hedges and tress on two sides. The shadows of the trees would make ideal cover for my bike and small amount of gear. The big muck heap I had seen being piled up was on the far side of the adjoining large field, with a line of trees separating it from the farm house and complex of buildings. I hadn't approached the farm from this direction before, as the pig unit's muck store was on the other side of the farm complex and there's a much easier route in, further down the lane. There are also a couple of isolated cottages nearby, which overlook the open field I needed to cross. It would have been a slightly shorter hike, closer to the cottages, but I would be very exposed in such a large open field, especially if a vehicle came along the lane, it's lights would likely sweep across me. Instead, I would hike across further up the field and make a dog-leg down to the muck heap, giving me a bit more cover. Heading up the far hedge in the direction I wanted to go, I found it so dense and overgrown, I could not find a way through! Giving up, headed back down to where I had stashed my bike and got through where the trees had suppressed the vegetation. I then back-tracked again, this time on the other side of the hedge... I wasted a small amount of time with the back-and-forth, but it happens when you are on unfamiliar ground. At least the bare harrowed field was very easy going.

Approaching the muck heap, I could see, even in the semi-overcast moonlight, it was looking very light-coloured and dry. The heap had appeared a number of weeks previously and had slowly grown in size. Leading up to tonight's visit, there had been several weeks with no real rain, but I was still hoping some of the fresher muck would be something I could make use of. Exploring the substantial heap that was there, it was obviously all very dry stuff and really of no use for wallowing in. I knew there was a chance of it being too dry to play in, disappointing, but at leastI had not wasted too much time in looking. OK, plan B - scrap this and hike right round the farm complex to the other side and to where the pig unit's muck is stored, and hopefully there will be some good stuff there.

I knew from looking at Google maps that on this side of the hedge, there was small track that disappeared to the left and in to the farm. It would be an easy way of getting to the other side, but it would make me have to walk right past the farmhouse, so was a non-starter. Also knowing, on the other side of the treelined hedge in front of me was a farm track that ran right-left in to the farm complex, with a large field beyond that. So, I could pop through the hedge, in to the field, take a wide arc around the farm house and complex of farm buildings, ending up at the far end, where the muck store was. Now that I was actually here, the hedge in front of me was more of a wall of dark and woody undergrowth that looked impossible to get through. I could not go left, so walked right and away from the farm, looking for a way though. Carrying on right for a few hundred meters, I still could not see any patches of light that would suggest a way though, but managing to disturb a roost of Wood Pigeons, that noisily took to the air. This was getting silly, there must be a way though somewhere? Eventually I got to a large tree that looked like it might have a way through underneath. Pushing my way through the grass and nettles, thankful that I was wearing a wetsuit, I found that on the other side, there was a big deep ditch, far too wide to jump - Bugger! With no other option, I slid down the bank and into the shallow running water in the bottom. Trying to see a less difficult way out, and grabbing hopefully strong enough vegetation, I hauled myself out of the ditch. I was now on the other side! At least the large tree would serve as a good landmark for getting back through later on...

Being aware how quiet a night it was and the fair amount of noise I had made getting through the hedge line, I stood for a while, listening and looking around. I could not see, or hear anything that suggested people were about. And now from this distance away from the farm, I could not even hear any pigs. I could smell pig muck, but that was just me. The large field I was facing had shin-high wheat, or barley growing in it, so it would not be too difficult, or noisy to walk through, if I followed the tractor wheel ruts. In the partial moonlit distance to the left, was the dark shape of the farmhouse and the front end of the two large pig sheds. I walked out in to the field to hopefully far enough that the noise of me moving through the crops would not be heard at the farm. Once there, I found a tractor wheel rut and started the long march down the field to the other end of the buildings. I still felt a felt a bit exposed out here in the field, as the short crop would not offer much cover if I needed to get out of sight in a hurry and the nearest hedge was now quite a way away. About half way down the pig sheds, I stopped and had another listen - all quiet, but I could now hear the soft grunts and occasional squeal from within the sheds. Walking on further I reached the end of the sheds and could now see the retaining wall of the muck storage area. From here, in the soft moonlight, it looked like there was a fair amount of muck piled above the top of the five-foot retaining wall. This looked very promising and I was starting to feel the excitement of what I might find. I cut straight across the field to the muck store, to get a better look. Yes, a whole load of muck, piled up against and higher than the back retaining wall, and all the way along the yard end of the two big sheds. But also, what looked like a wide expanse of slurry, from the bottom of the muck heap, back towards the large shed doors, where I guess, it had been recently scraped out. I needed to get in there and see what it was really like! But first, I need to stash my fleece and jogging bottoms somewhere safe that I could get to, if I needed to make a quick exit.

A bit further on from the pig sheds was a large hedge that bounded the field. On the other side, was a footpath and this was the usual way of getting to the farm on my previous visits. A bit further up the hedge was an access gap to the path, so that would be where I'd head if I needed to leave in a hurry. I'd stash my gear at an obvious place somewhere before the gap. As I approached the hedge, I heard some movement on the other side, then a couple of snorts and the noise of hooves. I briefly froze, but quickly realised it must be just a horse in the field on the other side. On a previous visit I had discovered a horse in the field, and as it didn't get too spooked by my moonlight visit then, so hopefully it wouldn't this time. As I made a small amount of noise stripping off my joggers and fleece, it snorted again at my presence. I hoped it would soon settle down when I walked away from the hedge. Gear stashed I walked back to the pig sheds. Getting to the end of the walled muck store, I had another brief pause to listen for any activity on, or near the farm. There were some lights shining from building a couple of large fields away, but everything nearby seemed quiet. I pulled off my hoodie and stashed it by a small shrub growing in the no-man's land between the muck store and the field proper. If I had to leave quickly, it would be no loss if I had to leave it behind.

Looking for where the ground was higher near the shed, I swung my leg over the retaining wall and dropped slightly down on the other side. My feet sunk to shin depth in to the soft slurry. The sight and smell of so much fresh muck was getting me excited and I could feel my heart pounding with anticipation of some serious muck wallowing. I wanted to explore the large expanse of heaped muck, eager to find some deep soft pig muck that I could wallow and sink in to! Working back towards the rear retaining wall, I was easily sinking up to my knees, so this already looked pretty good right here. While the night was fairly cold, I was feeling warm in the wetsuit and although I could feel the coolness of the slurry, it was not cold enough to be off-putting. Climbing higher and towards the top, the muck was becoming firmer and I could now just about walk along above the wall, and get a better view of how big the heap was. It looked in the moonlight like the nearest shed had just been scraped through, with lots of very fresh muck and slurry piled up and dumped on to the heap. As I moved about halfway along, I got to where the slurry had been scooped and poured on to the top, making the area appear black more level. Quickly, I started sinking in where I tried to walk forward and sank nearly up to my crotch without hitting the bottom. Oh, this was good! I had a little crawl around in this area and there was a spot big and soft enough to certainly have a lovely wallow and semi-sink in, but I should explore it all, just to be sure. Dragging myself back out of the soft muck, I carried on along to the end of the heap. The muck at this end was older and a bit drier, so not as good as I'd already found. Now that I was closer to the centre of the farm complex, I stood for a few moments, to listen out for any activity on the farm. No sound other than the pigs in the sheds. Time to head back and get properly mucky.

Back at the fresher end of the heap, I had another crawl around in the slurry and straw-muck mix, making the spot a larger, deeper soft area. Leaning back, I sank just level with the surface and by wiggling around, I could work my way a little below the surface, but not really any deeper. I scooped a few handfuls over me and I could feel its weight pressing down on me. The muck was thick and quite difficult to move around in. If it had been deeper, it would have been lovely to stand up and wiggle down in to, and fantasize about being stuck. But just lying there, suspended in lovely thick stinky pig muck, was still a pretty good feeling. This was good, but there was plenty of time to explore more.

I worked my way out of the thick muck and crawled down towards the front of the heap, where it was flatter and found it to be a knee-deep area of just thick black slurry, with no mixed-in straw. Kneeling down into it, the slurry flowed around my crotch and into the slit in my wetsuit. I could feel the cool slurry seeping in again around my cock, balls and arse crack. I pulled out my semi-hard cock and had a stroke with it submerged in smooth pig slurry, I was now rock hard and was starting to lose the sense of my surrounding with such pleasure! I had to be careful not to prematurely come. I leant back in to the slurry, half floating on the surface, I pushed my legs forward and under. Wriggling in and scooping handfuls of slurry over me, I was now buried with just had my head above the lake of slurry before me. As I moved around, the surface would undulate and I could really feel the weight pressing on me. I would love to be neck deep in this stuff, but this was as deep as I was going to find here. Reaching under, I again stroked my slick cock right near to the point of coming, but had to stop. The night was not nearing its end and I had more mucky fun to have here. It was again a bit of struggle to get up and out, but at least all the effort was keeping me warm.

Walking back to the end of the muck store I came in from, the slurry down by the pig shed doors was very fresh and, in the moonlight, appeared jet black. I wallowed around in the runny slurry getting completely covered again, rubbing my rock-hard cock with the slick black liquid. Standing up, I could feel it running down inside my wetsuit and as it ran off me, it made plopping noises as it splashed back in the pool of slurry surrounding me. I was a proper slurry covered mess and it was wonderful! I had a throbbing hard-on and I needed to shoot my load very bad. Walking back in to the deeper muck of the heap opposite the shed doors, I knelt down in the soft slurry mix, leaning forward on to the firmer muck. Pushing my cock in to the soft and slightly warm muck, I slowly slid back and forth. I'd done this a few times before, but here, the feeling was intense. I could only imagine what it would be like to fuck and be fucked in such wonderfully stinky muck..?

Now I really needed to come. Pulling myself off the heap, I looked for a suitably good spot. Down this end, I was furthest away from the track in to the farm buildings proper and a little hidden by the big heap of muck in the middle of the store. Also, I was close to end where my stuff was stashed on the exit route. A little back from the slurry pool was a spot of soft slurry-straw mix that looked right for having a final wallow in and to enjoy shooting my load, while being lost in that delightful muck-coved moment! This was the spot.

With a bit of splodging around, I had the area nicely mixed up. Laying down in to the soft muck, I had higher areas to my right and the muck store wall to my left, and looked on to the doors of this end shed. Working my way in to the muck, the runnier slurry was easy to scoop over me. Resting my head on the firmer muck behind, I could see the shed and hear the soft grunting of the pigs inside. I was pretty much as one with the muck as I could almost be. Perhaps naked would have been a step nearer, but it would have been too cold tonight for that. Perhaps early Autumn would have been a better time for this, but the muck would most likely not be as good as it was here tonight. This was exceptional. You can't have everything and I guess you just have to take what you can at that moment.

Laying there in the dim moonlight, rubbing my cock with the slick black slurry, I was in a very special place. Everything was quiet, just the grunting and occasional squeal of the pigs, the deep musty smell of the muck, being all I could smell. As I stroked myself closer to cuming, I imagined being in the manure end of the pig pens, wallowing around in the fresh shit with the pigs watching me. Or riding the wave of muck and piss-slurry as it was pushed through the sheds by the scraper. Just a fantasy I know... I stroked myself right on the edge of cuming for what seemed an age, occasionally scooping the runnier slurry over myself so I could feel is weight pushing me deeper in to the muck. I could see the swollen head of my cock glistening black in the moonlight, and just envisaging the spurts of cum that would shoot from it. This just pushed me over the edge, losing all sense of where I was and my surrounding in the overwhelming orgasm that cursed through me. In a covering of back slurry, I could see my white cum pulse through from the end of my cock and land on the surface. I convulsed with the pleasure, trying not to make any loud noise that would carry. As I lay there in the afterglow, heart thumping hard in my ears and my senses returned, all was still quiet in my slurry-bath corner of the muck store. I wondered how long I could lay here experiencing the moment, before I needed to move, or got too chilly and had to. Imagine doing this in your own private muck store, on a warm summer's day and having all the time in the world to lay back, doze and then feel refreshed for some more mucky fun? Just another wishful fantasy.

But I needed to get a move on, get a bit cleaned up, find out what the time was and move on, or head home. Levering myself out of the muck, little waves of slurry slid off with a slop-plop-plop, burying my globs of cum, I guess never to be seen again? Other than some marks in the surface of the slurry and areas of disturbed muck, that should be all I leave behind here. I scraped the surface of my wetsuit as best as I could with my hands, but I could feel the weight of the slurry on it and what had oozed in inside. Climbing back over the side wall of the muck store, I was again in the scrubby no-man's land between the sheds and field proper. I picked up my hoodie from under the shrubby bush with care, so not to get too much slurry on it. Pausing, I had a look around and listened for any noises of nearby activity, before heading over and picking up my stashed gear. Standing there, I now could feel the chill of the night. Maybe it was the come-down after the intensity of earlier, or just tiredness of being up so late?

Walking back to the hedge I soon found my stashed gear. I was definitely feeling chilled and decided to strip off the slurry-soaked wetsuit and get my hopefully, reasonably dry clothes on and warm up. Getting my wetsuit off was hard work, I had to get my gym shoes off, to pull it off my feet. They were caked and soaked through with slurry and difficult to undo, thinking the velcro-strapped cheapo trainers I had used in the past were much easier. Sitting semi-naked on the ground, in the shadow of the hedge, with the wetsuit halfway off, I felt a bit uneasy. If someone was to come around, I'd find it difficult to make a quick exit, but it's always the trade-off with changing close to a farm. Wetsuit pulled off inside-out, slightly damp clothes and slurry soaked gym shoes back on, I felt a bit warmer, although I could feel there was quite a bit of soaked-in slurry in my jogging bottoms from the first farm visit. Perhaps it was a mistake to put them back on after the first wallow... With the wetsuit folded as best I could in to a plastic bag, I was ready to head back up the field and across to where I had stashed my bike. A quick look at my Indiglow watch showed quarter to three. Perhaps I am a bit tired after all?

Walking back some way out in the field, I keep a continual look towards the farm buildings, just in case someone was up early. Probably too early for someone to be about here, but it's not unknown elsewhere I've been. Do I go on to the other older pig farm? I guess it will take me about half an hour from now to get there and ready to check out the muck heaps. It's late April and while the sky to the North and East still looks pretty dark, I'm not certain when it will start to get light. And I've just stripped off my wetsuit. If I was intending to go on elsewhere, perhaps I should have kept it on? It's feeling like I should call it a night here. OK, if I go straight home, I should be there in three quarters of an hour, then hopefully less than an hour of clean up, then bed, and maybe some sleep.

As I turn my thoughts away from going home, I notice a couple of spots of dim yellow-ish light low in the distance. I stop. I'm now a little past the end of the farm buildings, but have a way to go before I turn right towards the place in the hedge where I got through. I move a little side-to-side, to see if the lights are just from buildings in the far distance, shining through gaps in the hedge at the end of the field, but they stay constant. The land rises then falls a little after the hedge and the nearest buildings are several large fields away, so I'm not sure I'd be able to see them from here. I also know there is a farm track the other side of the hedge where the lights appear to be. Is it a vehicle's interior light? Fuck, it could be! That track comes around the end of that far hedge and continues down the hedge to the right of me, and in to the farm. If there is a vehicle about, it could be on me in just a few seconds. Time to get out of the middle of this field and to cover! I run as quietly as I can through the short crops, diagonally forward and right, trying to put some distance between me and the farm buildings, but also getting to the crossing spot in the hedge as quickly as I can. I make it to the hedge and look up the track and towards where the lights were. I can't see anything now. Maybe it was just lights from buildings in the far distance and I've spooked myself? I climb carefully down in to the ditch and back up through the hedge, trying not to get caught up on low branches, or brambles.

I come out on the other side and just have the large bare field to cross before picking up my bike. As I walk out from the hedge, I notice a bright light illuminating me from the right. Not from the farm buildings, but from the direction of the couple of cottages that are down the lane from where I rode in. I feel I'm being lit up by the light, but it's a long way off. I pull out my small binoculars and try and see where the light is coming from. The binos are just a cheap pair of 10x25's but they allow me to see stuff in the dark better than I can with the naked eye. The light does not seem to be coming from the cottages, but from in the distance behind them. Whatever, it's a bloody bright light. I feel a bit exposed, but I need to cross the field to get to my bike. I walk quickly on the shortest way across, keeping an eye behind and to the right, just in case there's any activity from the farm. I've probably just spooked myself from earlier, but once I've made it to the hedge on the other side, I'll feel happier. At the other side, I make my way round the hedge to where I was able to get through. I was right, the light was not from the now much closer cottages. I hop through the hedge and find my bike. Hiking it up on to my shoulder I make my way through the low wheat and to field's edge. Hopping over the small ditch and verge, I'm safely on the road. I have a quick check of the bike, all looks OK. I put on my hi-viz and set off back along the single track lane which I came in on. I am on my way home.

Carrying the heavy bagged wetsuit is becoming a pain, I should have left it on, or brought my rucksack to take it home. By the time I get along the lane and in to the nearby village, I've had enough and dump it in the first waste bin I see and ride on. As I ride on, I wonder if perhaps that was not a good decision, I'd done a few wallows in the wetsuit, but it was still in usable condition. OK, I would need to spend some time washing and drying it, but now I'll have to get another one... Heading out of the village, I am feeling a bit tired, but OK and the effort of cycling is keeping me warm. Just a little out of the village, I noticed vehicle lights coming up behind me. While it's usually pretty quiet out here in the early hours, some people are about on the roads and normally fly past, but the vehicle is taking it's time to catch up and overtake me. As I come round a bend it's behind me and does not pass quickly. I'm starting to wonder what's going on and when It does eventually overtake, it does only a little faster than I'm going. I'm relieved to see it's a water utility company pickup and it continues to trundle off in to the distance - maybe they were getting paid by the hour? For the rest of the journey home, it was just me, in my own stinky world.

Nearing home, I see the milkman getting out of his van, working his way up the road. It's a sign it's getting closer to daybreak. I stash my bike round the back of the house and grab the bin liner and disposable coverall from the bin store. Other than the hi-viz, hat, binos, watch and work gloves, I'll bin everything else. Most of it has seen previous action and is now, if not soaked through, is variously covered in very stinky pig muck. The gym shoes and socks are toast. I won't have the time tomorrow to wash it outside and try and dry it. I stand in the bin liner and take off the gym shoes and socks. Off comes the fleece, jogging bottoms, then the hoodie and long-sleeved t-shirt. I'm now naked and I feel the chill of the night. Around my middle, my hands, wrist and ankles, I'm blackened by the drying slurry. I know I still stink pretty bad. I step out of the bin liner and quickly put on the disposable coverall, it's not much, but there is some feeling of warmth. Opening the back door, I grab the two pedal bin liners I put by and place them over my feet. Now I can go indoors without leaving a trail of dried muck. I notice on the cooker clock, it's half past three.

After an hour of showering and scrubbing, I'm as clean as I'm going to get. As I dry off, I can smell the tell-tale scent of ammonia that's tainted my skin. It's quite noticeable when skin is damp, but will go after a few days and several showers. Anyway, I quite like the after-smell, it's a reminder of the time I've had during the night. As I crawl in to bed, the birds are starting up and I can tell it's getting light through what's coming past the blinds. I ponder if I would have had time to go on to the third farm for some more mucky fun - possibly, but probably not a lot of time before it started to get too light. Anyway, I found some wonderful muck at the other farms, especially the second one, with the best I've wallowed in for quite a while. Now to get some sleep. But my thoughts turn to when I'll get another opportunity for an all-nighter and the plan for where that might be - perhaps the dairy farm slurry lagoon I found on Google maps..?


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