The Photo is not of me but sets the scene for the following:

The paragraph that follows is from a Thomas Hardy story “ The Withered Arm” and it brought back clear memories from the farm that I was worked on at my age of twenty.

It was an eighty-cow dairy, and the troop of milkers, regular and pernumerary, were all at work; for, though the time of year was as yet
but early May, the feed lay entirely from the pasture, and the cows
were 'in full pail.' The hour was about six in the evening, and three-
fourths of the large, black and white animals having been finished off,
there was opportunity for a little conversation.

The voice seemed to proceed from the belly of the cow called Cherry, but
the speaker was a milking-woman, whose face was buried in the flank of
that motionless beast.