The curse of childhood obesity begins at home

‘Epidemic” is exactly the wrong word to describe the problem of childhood obesity. An epidemic is a fierce outbreak of a disease. The word causes panic because it sounds fast and frightening, but it also implies that it can, with enough effort and money, be quickly cured. Pressure groups love “epidemics”, because they allow them to demand that governments must “act now”. If their suggestions are implemented and do not work, they never apologise: they simply demand yet more drastic action.

In our society, however, obesity is not epidemic, but endemic. It does not suddenly explode, like foot-and-mouth disease in cattle. It exists for reasons which are long-term and primarily cultural. This is particularly true of childhood obesity, because children have less resistance than adults to the culture which surrounds them. So when one hears that the Government’s new anti-obesity measures include items like compulsory calorie labelling for big restaurant chains, one feels these will do, as you might say, a fat lot of good.

The sort of families whose children tend to get too fat are most unlikely to be swayed by figures stuck on menus. In fact, calorie counts may even be bad for good eating, I suspect, because they sound technical, almost medical. They do not help people understand what eating should be.

Eating starts with a family, and is best, on most occasions, when it is enjoyed as a shared activity. Its limits are better defined by custom than by measurement. You need the concept of a meal, and of a mealtime, rather than scoffing whatever you want whenever you want it. You need to learn to take what is set before you. You need to think about what others need, and to recognise limits. The only reason, as a child, that I did not eat packet after packet of biscuits every day was that I was told not to – a maximum of three biscuits was permitted, with only one of those three being chocolate. If parents cannot enforce such restraints, it is hard to see how governments can.

It also matters what grown-ups do, as well as what they say. It surprises me that people in the “customerfacing” public services seem – I say this only from observation, not statistics – fatter on average than the rest of the population. Police officers and nurses, in particular, often look as if they are bursting out of their uniforms. You hear talk in official circles of the need to provide a “leaner, fitter” service. Shouldn’t those words be taken literally?

For centuries, the prayer of the farmer has been “God speed the plough”. But what if God might be better asked to stop the plough altogether? On Wednesday and Thursday this week, the Groundswell Show and Conference, at Lannock Manor Farm, Weston, in Hertfordshire seeks to advance this radical proposition. What makes the idea interesting is that it is promoted not by a loopy back-to-nature group, but by farmers who need to make a living.

The “No-till” movement began in the US after the originally fertile prairies were too heavily exploited. Their over-cultivated soil blew away in droughts. Here in Britain, the weather is kinder, but the same fundamental rules apply. The modern “total inversion” plough has gradually taken the life, and therefore the fertility, out of the soil.

My cousin John Cherry who, with his family, farms about 2,000 arable acres at Weston, claims he was first attracted to “No-till” because of laziness. The Cherrys were fed up with heavy investment in tractors, fertilisers and sprays, and with the work of ploughing and the machine that follows the plough to break up the soil. They liked the idea that less might mean more.

Soon they will reap their eighth “Notill” harvest, growing wheat, barley, oats, rye, oilseed rape, linseed, peas and beans. They have not yet achieved the “more” – yields are roughly the same as before – but they have radically achieved the “less”, cutting the cost of machinery, pesticides and diesel. The main machine they need is a direct drill to plant the seed.

The benefits to nature include less flooding and a soil that can feed itself , because of better absorption. The land is never left naked, exposed to rain or sun. Therefore its quality improves.

Not surprisingly, Groundswell is not sponsored by chemical manufacturers, and is looked at askance by big tractor salesmen. But it is good to develop an agriculture which can work in the medium term without compromising the long term. “May you live for a thousand years!” people used to shout sycophantically at their emperors, knowing that they couldn’t. But if you farm, that is exactly what you should wish for your land.

Passing through Norfolk this weekend, we decided to visit Sandringham. I found it fascinating because – apart from the magnificent estate beyond the garden walls – the place is so unremarkable. If you did not know that this was the country house of the British monarch, you would think nothing of it. It is a prosperous, ugly, pleasant building with a large, well-tended, unimaginative garden. It contains almost nothing of beauty and not much of interest unless you love family portraits. It has few symbols of power, and fewer still of romance. That’s good, I thought. This is what a constitutional monarchy off-duty should be – low-key, at ease, at peace.