A character from an even earlier phase of my mis-spent youth. My parents bought a farm in Cornwall in 1953 just as the wheat was being cut with a reaper-binder. We stacked the sheaves into stooks, then into stacks (what are often mis-labelled as haytstacks)….come late autumn, one of these came round to thresh the wheat with obligatory rests for ingestion of much food and cider. Every man, woman and child from about three farms round automatically came round to muscle in at each in turn