Fertiliser: If You Don't Buy It Now You Won't Get It
I love this time of year, carol singers, tinsel on the tree, chestnuts roasting on an open fire, and the fertiliser market reports landing on the mat.
It make me smile, like hearing Mistletoe and Wine on the radio somehow Christmas isn't complete without panic in the fertiliser market.
It's a bit like running round the Marks & Spencers at 4.30pm on Christmas Eve, well you've got to go for a few beers with the lads first when you knock off at lunchtime haven't you?
Then suddenly it's well I wanted a black basque and matching suspender set, but that pair of Bridget Jones knickers and the one remaining winceyette dressing gown with the bunny rabbits on it will have to do. It doesn't matter what size it is, I don't care what the price is either, here's my card, just wrap it up luv.
Now I will be the first to admit that the recent price hike in the ferts market does not have the same look of the enormously large rodent that it did last year. Perhaps it's more of a small fluffy gerbil this time round.
Apparently the Indians are buying anything they can get their hands on, the Chinese are about to slap a large export tax on their stuff, Russia and Ukraine want to keep everything for themselves and loads of other production facilities have closed down.
Strong, compelling and convincing arguments them all. If they didn't sound so amazingly familiar. They must keep these in boxes along with the Christmas decorations I reckon.
"Ah, look what I've found it's the old Chinese tax excuse, I remember first making that one up at school in 1983. Bless. Let's put that one here, next to the Russian plant closures."
It make me smile, like hearing Mistletoe and Wine on the radio somehow Christmas isn't complete without panic in the fertiliser market.
It's a bit like running round the Marks & Spencers at 4.30pm on Christmas Eve, well you've got to go for a few beers with the lads first when you knock off at lunchtime haven't you?
Then suddenly it's well I wanted a black basque and matching suspender set, but that pair of Bridget Jones knickers and the one remaining winceyette dressing gown with the bunny rabbits on it will have to do. It doesn't matter what size it is, I don't care what the price is either, here's my card, just wrap it up luv.
Now I will be the first to admit that the recent price hike in the ferts market does not have the same look of the enormously large rodent that it did last year. Perhaps it's more of a small fluffy gerbil this time round.
Apparently the Indians are buying anything they can get their hands on, the Chinese are about to slap a large export tax on their stuff, Russia and Ukraine want to keep everything for themselves and loads of other production facilities have closed down.
Strong, compelling and convincing arguments them all. If they didn't sound so amazingly familiar. They must keep these in boxes along with the Christmas decorations I reckon.
"Ah, look what I've found it's the old Chinese tax excuse, I remember first making that one up at school in 1983. Bless. Let's put that one here, next to the Russian plant closures."
