All’s right with the world? Up to a point
AsI drove to the farmers’ market it was a joy to see the activity in the fields. There can have been few times in living memory when the countryside looked so well.
Autumn crops of cereals have no missed, wet, sore patches and no deep “ploughing through despite it all” type tramlines. Spring sown cereals are popping out of the soil in neat and even fashion even, if helped nowadays by satellite technology, they have eliminated many of the squiggles and overlaps that gave each farm and field individuality. Grass fields may not be as green as they were before the recent cold east winds burned them off but still lots of little lambs were having their informal chaotic imitations of the Grand National.
I arrived at the market in a good mood and started to spread this bonhomie by remarking to a neighbour’s wife what a benign winter we had just had. Her riposte – “We will pay for this. Look at what is ahead!” – took the wind out of my sails.
This doom-laden prediction was said with such certainty that I almost looked up to see if hordes of locusts were about to appear out of the sky.
Instead I muttered some platitude about enjoying the good weather while it lasted. Instead of calming her obviously pent-up views on life in general and agriculture in particular, my response triggered a salvo.
She was obviously wound up about Brexit and I suppose, if I had been cooped up on the farm spending large parts of the past month lambing, I would have been similarly exercised.
Did I realise that the lambs being brought into the world might not have
their usual market to go to later this year, she asked. I did, I said, but reminded her that a majority of farmers in this country voted to get out of Europe.
Talk about lighting the blue touchpaper... Before I knew it I was pinned against one of the stalls as she launched into a diatribe against the ineptitude of the current crop of politicians.
I remembered that she and her husband are two of the many farmers who never ever get round to voting. This omission does not restrain them in complaining about what is happening in politics and, whichever side of the argument is in the ascendency, they are on it.
I had to divert the conversation so I mentioned the UK Agriculture Bill that is idling in a siding as MPS wrestle with the Prime Minister’s preference for departing from Europe.
Ever since the main bones of the Bill were published months ago, the man charged with steering it through Parliament, Michael Gove, has been fully occupied looking for promotion as the next PM.
My assailant became further exercised by the very mention of the little man who had, she reminded me, been given the Defra role as punishment for some treachery in his party.
If Mr Gove gets his muchwanted promotion, she pointed out with her finger not too far from my nose, the next farm minister will have a lot of work to do in a very short time.
Just to put the proverbial tin lid on the issue, she reminded me that
Mr Gove’s promises to the farming industry had included a condition that they were only valid until the next General Election and, if he goes, it could be back on the policy starting line.
But we in Scotland can have the freedom to set our own agricultural policies, I remarked, in a quiet “I want to be out of here queuing for a steak pie” voice.
She then regaled me with her opinion of the Scottish Farming Minister, whom she referred to as “Feardie Fergus”. His main policy is to criticise the UK and, since Westminster was doing nowt, he was happy to shelter behind that “doing nothing” shield – that’s a fair summary of the next five minutes of this one-sided conversation.
Another diversionary tactic was called for so I mentioned the current battle between vegans and carnivores. The vegans have been trying to grab the headlines and turn the public off eating red meat. My assailant pointed out there was no stall at the market selling beans and lentils so she was not threatened by a small but seemingly well-funded group. Not that she would miss them if someone introduced her to one of “those vegans”, as she referred to them.
By now, with steak pie bought and ears ringing, I toddled off home. I saw the fields. I saw the lambs but this time I also saw the black clouds of uncertainty over the farming industry
PS: The steak pie was excellent.