As a child, Dad was my everything
Her father’s relaxed attitude gave Sara Cox the freedom to enjoy the delights of life on the farm...
sara Cox talks about her dad and growing up on a farm
Growing up in Grundy Fold Farm in Bolton in the 70s and 80s was pretty chaotic. There were five of us kids and it was around the kitchen table I found my voice – as the youngest, it was the best way of getting my parents’ attention.
My dad, Len, is a farmer who’s always working, which is why our farmhouse was never the focus for us. A farmhouse isn’t somewhere you’ll find white lilies and Egyptian cotton sheets. Look at our wall in this photo! (I was about five.) We were halfway through repairs. Our barn had burned down and we’d lost a year’s worth of cattle food. Farming is a fragile economy, and it nearly finished us off. But most of this went over my head. All us kids cared about was having fun. The fields were a deadly adventure playground. Getting into scrapes was commonplace, whether it was jumping off barn roofs or being thrown off horses.
I loved being around my Dad. I always felt like he “got” me, and there was an aura about him – as a child, he was my everything. Dad was definitely “Good Cop”. While Mum was telling us kids to “Tidy your room” and “Do the dishes”, Dad would let me muck around and play with the horses. Even now when I pass London Zoo on my way to work and smell the zebras – who have a similar diet to horses – it takes me back to those times. Others might wrinkle their nose, but I think “Ahh, home...”.
It wasn’t all rolling hills though. Near the farm there’s an estate of red-brick semis – Little Lever. This is where I’d “play out” and I knew every street. It’s also got the best chippy in the world. Oh, how I loved Little Lever. After my parents separated when I was six, and I moved out with Mum, this was where we lived, but I still spent a lot of my time at the farm with Dad. It felt like an escape. Instead of chores, I had freedom to do what I liked.
One of my biggest treats was taking our livestock to agricultural shows with Dad. The best bit was when he nipped to the loo and left me in charge. I’d be standing there aged 12 with a bull, a couple of cows and a calf, looking at the other kids who were just visiting, thinking, “Yes, these are my beasts.”
It seems natural to look back at the people and events that shape us. Now living in London, having landed my dream job on BBC Radio 2, I realise how much these memories are part of my journey. As I run around in the morning shrieking at my kids to get ready I hear my own Mum, and realise she was just doing her job – working hard to make sure we were all looked after. Thanks Mum! I loved life in Bolton, but I love London too. Will I ever move back to the country? I guess that’s the dream – if I could pick up the house I live in now and plonk it in a field. But right now, I’m where I should be. w&h
Sara Cox’s memoir, Till The Cows Come Home (Coronet), is out now.
‘When I smell the zebras at the zoo I think, “Ah, home!”’