The Farmer & His Wife

John Taylor enjoys a few private thoughts.

THE time – six o’clock. The season – mid summer. It was one of those mornings full of promise when it feels good to be alive.

I had gone into the bathroom and was standing looking out of the window, admiring the view. From the bathroom, you can’t see the Forth, but rather across the Riggin to the north-east.

The sheep were grazing, the plovers were wheeling and I could hear the crows making a racket in the trees at the back of the steading.

“What did you say, John?” Anne’s voice interrupted me. “Didn’t say a word,” I replied. “I heard you say, ‘An elephant nest in a rhubarb tree’.”

I kept quiet. I thought I’d shut the bathroom door, but obviously I hadn’t. I have a bad habit of saying things aloud to myself when I think I’m alone.

That morning, I was pleased with the world and, as I looked out of the window, I must have unwittingly come out with that really daft saying, “an elephant nest in a rhubarb tree.”

It was one of my dad’s daft sayings which I had inherited.

Anne catching me out like that, talking to myself in the bathroom, reminded me of a good friend, A.G. Street.

I think I’ve told you I was a great admirer of A.G. Street, farmer, writer and broadcaster.

I have most of his books and if you ever come across “Wessex Wins”, read it. It’s A.G. Street’s autobiography. It’s an insight into broadcasting, writing and how to succeed in life when times are really hard. Anyway, the connection is this. Arthur’s subject was always some aspect of the countryside and his very first broadcast was a 15-minute talk on cows. He went for a rehearsal at 4 p.m. on April 5, 1932. Broadcast time was 7.10 p.m.

Problems? He read too fast, galloping through a 13-minute script in eight minutes.

Miss Wace, who was looking after Street and his talk, disappeared and he was left on his own in the studio to try again.

After many unsuccessful attempts she came back.

“Mr Street, do you ever sing in your bath?”

Arthur was worried, wondering where this conversation was leading. He admitted he had been known to sing in his bath. Miss Wace went on. “Everyone does, but why? Because they feel safe in the knowledge that no-one can hear or see them. A studio,” she said, “is as private as a bathroom.”

The result of her words? Arthur’s first broadcast was a success.

As long as I remember to shut the bathroom door, in future I can talk to myself – or even sing – to my heart’s content.