Spraying wasn’t as easy when I was a young fellow. I’d have to be up, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, to take in the five-to-eight weather forecast on RTÉ Radio. Because you see, if I missed it, I’d be in bother. There wouldn’t be another till lunchtime, after the painful radio soap, Harbour Hotel. Never take the forecast second hand – I had to hear it myself. Still do.

Anyhow, I’d spin the dial from Atlantic 252 on the auld Pye to RTÉ and listen in anticipation. Great news, just what I wished to hear. The forecast was fine for the day and ideal for spraying. But never one to implicitly trust the Meteorological Service, I’d have a quick look at the barometer on the way out and a tap could tell a lot.

If the needle rose, great. If it fell, even so much as a smidgen, be careful. It fell.

With the dew lifted, I’d head off with the brimming 330 gallon Allman, which should cover 15ac – if the brass jet filters were clean – and more if they weren’t. Not good.

Imagine pulling up with a 6,000l Horsch Leeb today and dropping a pipe into the Boyne in Trim and opening 200l of chemicals on the footpath. The EPA would lock you up

There’d be a couple of 5 gallon drums of Banlene Extra aboard for another fill, either from a field ditch or a roadside river. You see, driving for water and filling could take the most of an hour. But in those days, you could fill where you liked and nobody would bat an eyelid.

Imagine pulling up with a 6,000l Horsch Leeb today and dropping a pipe into the Boyne in Trim and opening 200l of chemicals on the footpath. The EPA would lock you up.

But back to the 1980s. Upon reaching the field, the wretched 40 foot booms were manually unfolded, the pressure set to 40 PSI, and away I’d go. First tank gone, I’d fold up the booms again, but the dark clouds I’d been tracking from Kinnegad were gathering much too quickly. I’d fill it anyway – sure the forecast was good, wasn’t it?

Half way through the second tank, there were drops on the windscreen and the swallows were skimming the crop. In denial, I refused to switch on the wiper. But the raindrops are soon pooling on the warm bonnet and I had to stop. There’d be a tirade of cursing for a solid five minutes.

Then, feeling much better, I decided to sit it out. Eventually, the shower blows over and I begin take two.

Spraying today

However, the weather apps have changed all this. You no longer need to listen to the early radio forecast or even watch the sky. Now, of course, you look at your phone to see what’s happening weather-wise, live as it happens. You can make a much more informed decision about the day’s weather and track the showers’ progress, all courtesy of Met Éireann.

It’s very humiliating, folding up the booms as the heavens open in a downpour. And the wiper on full all the way home is not good

But you can still get it wrong. A shower can bubble up out of the blue (literally) and catch you with your trousers down.

Instead of 10 gallons of cheap and cheerful Banlene aboard, it’s 40l of premium new technology Questar, which plunged you further into the red and sent the bank manager into a frenzy speed-dialling you.

A tank of spray nowadays costs thousands of euro and showers hurt even more.

It’s very humiliating, folding up the booms as the heavens open in a downpour. And the wiper on full all the way home is not good.

But, all the same, I think we’re better off today from a spraying point of view.

Spraying was really an awful job then, between small tanks, narrow manual-fold booms, blocking jets and poor weather information.

And if there’s anything worse than folding up the booms in the rain, it’s manually-folding heavy booms in the rain.