Farmhand’s Quarters @museum.de

Aaargh, it’s that blasted tomcat again! Will you give it a rest?

There’s no rest for the wicked on a farm, you know! I even have to wake the farmhand, who’s still lazing around in his bed. And it’s already six a.m.!

It's only six a.m.! And there was that cow that was calving – I spent all night in the barn with her – only got to bed a couple of hours ago!

Meow!

Stupid tomcat. But you're right. I need to get up. There’s work to do. Papa Kliemt will be up and about, I’m sure. And his wife Anna will be waiting in the kitchen with freshly brewed grain coffee. Up we get ... one, two, three!

Phew, it’s absolutely freezing in here. But what d’you expect, in a bedroom with no heating. The warmth coming up from the stable isn't enough to make it feel even the slightest bit cosy in here. But never mind, I only come up here to sleep, anyway.

First, let me light the lamp. Then get dressed sharpish, put on my shoes and head off to the farmhouse proper, and into the kitchen. It doesn't reek of cowshed, there’s a nice, hot stove and a pot of freshly brewed grain coffee just waiting for me.

But first, I'm going downstairs to check on the new-born calf.

You see? No problem at all. And if the farmhand only gets two hours’ sleep, well, it’ll just going to have to do. Actually, he should thank me. Just imagine what the farmer's wife would say if she came up here to press her laundry, and the farmhand was still loafing around in bed?! Here, this big box, that's the ironing mangle. You feed the laundry into it, to smooth out the creases: Sheets and towels, that kind of thing...

Right, I'm going to make myself scarce again. The eau-de-pigsty up here … it may be quite practical, having the heat given off by the animals take the chill off the farmhand’s quarters, but it’s not something my delicate feline button nose can tolerate for any length of time.