Here is a link to a funny video which a couple of different friends have sent me.
It contains a few swear words, so if you are of a sensitive disposition you might wish to look at an animal picture on Field Day instead. (Although if you are THAT sensitive you might wish to avoid the turkey picture.)
I have been bad. I was stopped by the police last night for speeding as I drove back from the supermarket. I was doing 39mph as I entered the 30mph zone so it was a fair cop.
I don't drive that quickly as a rule and my crumby car is incapable of braking many speed limits. One of the headlight bulbs had decided to stop working that afternoon which made me look more suspicious. The policeman probably saw the vehicle coming and thought that someone had stolen a clown's car from a circus.
He asked how quickly I had been driving and I told him 40mph and falling.
"And is there any reason that you were driving so quickly, Sir?"
I said that I had just bought a load of frozen goods and wanted to get them in the freezer.
So he breathalised me and let me off with a verbal caution. This was lucky, I guess. I'm not sure what he would have said if I had told the truth - that there had been a Donna Summer record on the radio and I was lost in the moment. Hopefully he would have dragged me out of the car and started beating me on the head with his truncheon.
I drove slowly home thanking my lucky stars. I was fortunate to escape a fine but just think how unseemly it would have been if I had been left to die in the gutter in a mingled pool of blood and melted frozen goods.
This is as dramatic as it gets I'm afraid. 39mph in a clapped out BMW with one headlight - It's hardly James Dean, is it?
Interested to read this story about the people of Sheringham resisting a supermarket.
I have told you before how much I like North Norfolk. This is one of the reasons, I guess.
I'm not opposed to Tesco of course, nowadays that would be like objecting to oxygen, I'm a Tesco shopper myself. I just consider this to be a wonderfully British story about democracy and underdogs. I'm particularly amused that not only do the people of Sheringham not wish to shop in Tesco, they don't even want the choice to shop in Tesco.
Good for Sheringham, I hope that Tesco lose their 1000th appeal against the decision.
I have always been a big fan of the radio. Which you would expect as an "aspiring broadcaster" myself. (Eh? Do you like the sound of that? The Broadcaster - Matthew Naylor)
Anyway I have recently set my bedside radio to Radio 4. I take this to be a sign of maturity. The kitchen radio was already on Radio 4 (I listen to the Archers whiler I cook tea) but the car and bedroom had been Radio1.
My reason for switching came out of the blue. I was listening to the Radio1 news a week or two ago when they reported the potential flooding by saying that there "could be floods in six counties including Norfolk and Suffolk."
I was going blue in the face yelling at the radio, "And what the bloody hell are the other four counties." I can't believe that even the most apathetic teenager would consider it "uncool" to know that they were about to get flooded. I hate the Radio 1 news, it is unnecessarily patronising, irrelevant or vague. I can't believe that liking new music is inconsistent with caring if you get flooded.
So I've switched. Which means that you might actually get to read about some meatier issues on here. Then again..
I had my first media lunch last week. It was at the George in Stamford which is a suitably grand venue.
We have assembled a little gang to look into producing a farming podcast. I am not sure if you would say that we have been inspired by Wiggly Wigglers and the incredible Heather and Phil Gorringe or simply that we have shamelessly copied their idea.
We are recording a pilot show in a couple of weeks. If it goes well I will tell you more. If it goes badly I will tell you more. This is how our relationship works. You have something to read at work and I save the expense of a course of pyschotherapy.
I have suddenly been struck, rather late I admit,..
It was only the start of this year when we decided to become a LEAF Marque farm. I've always been a great admirer of the organisation but never underestimated how challenging it would be to reach the standard, both in terms of cost and time.
We have been adding environmental features across the farms throughout the year and have plenty more that we would like to do yet. I still have a lot of the "desk-based" conservation to do - the crappy protocols and plans that you have to create which only get read by auditors.
It's easy to get a bit cynical about this side of things. I'm financially-cautious and risk-averse by nature so the requirement to write down formal plans in a small business like ours makes me feel as though I'm not trusted.
Anyway, moaning aside. Last night, just as it was getting dark, I drove through Welland House Farm to look if a field there would be dry enough to plough this morning. As I drove down the roadway I saw a barn owl fly out of the old barn (where we fitted a nesting box in the spring) and go about her business along one of the dykes .
I got a really warm feeling about the whole thing. The workload from assurance schemes has been getting on my pip just lately. This was a real antidote - the wonderful thing about LEAF is that it is tangible and enjoyable.
The way that we are trying to develop the business means that our time and money are always constrained . Much as I love growing flowers and potatoes, last night, for the first time in my life, I found myself daydreaming how much simpler and more pleasurable life would be if we drilled the whole farm with combinable crops. I blame it on the cold, wet weather (or the high wheat price).
Congratulations to our London correspondent (and Facebook friend) Caroline Stocks who has passed her driving test on the first attempt.
I know from personal experience that the very best drivers always pass on their second attempt but well done anyway.
You will be looking for a stylish and sporty car I guess. Click Here I have just the solution.
Well. We won. We gained more readers/viewers/participants/friends (actually what is our relationship) on this blogs than Field Day. Sorry Tim. We will be gracious in our (minor) victory.
There is a story here about an experiment powering a car with waste chocolate.
I had no idea that there was such a thing as "waste" chocolate. There certainly isn't at my house.
At some point I've got to tell you all about a surreal episode where we planted 60 000 daffodils in Hyde Park with a bunch of actual hobbits and Lord Brockett (who kept talking about sausages the whole time).
The thing is, like so much of what is going on at the moment, it is too bizarre for me to put it into words yet. There is a news story here to prove that it happened and I will tell you more when I feel ready.
So my confidence is a bit fragile at the moment so what do I do? I go and pick a fight with the Lord Plumb of course.
OK, baiting Relfy is one thing. I'm only punching a bit over my weight there. We are both equally featherweight (even if his blog is far more feathered than this one). But the Plumbster, he's a farming legend. So not only have we alienated animal lovers throughout the country now we are making enemies in the House of Lords and the European Parliament. What am I thinking about?
I suspect that the job of presenting the counter argument was offered around the industry before it arrived on my desk. Even "Boy" Bedford thought that the job was too controversial.
Hey ho. The point of the piece is to stimulate debate. Farmers have some difficult challenges to overcome in the next couple of decades and it will be interesting to see what young people really think of the starting point that they have and whether they feel encouraged to make the necessary financial commitments.
I am looking forward to watching the debate unfold. Join in here and win tickets for Oxford Farming Conference. You can look at the debate here clearly I have a fan in the form of Stuart Miekle from Transylvania. He thought that my writing was "full of cliches." Well, at the end of the day, that's the way the cookie crumbles I'm afraid Dracula.
My hair's getting thinner which is one of my biggest fears coming true. I have been going through a bit of a crisis of confidence lately which is why I took a holiday from writing on here. I get a bit down in the dumps once in a while and I just keep my head down till I'm feeling peppy again...
It was the first serious frost this morning. The builders are still working on the garage so the car had been parked outside. Obviously the demister on my useless car has decided it doesn't wish to go any more.
I struggled to find a suitable vessel to carry some warm water to the windscreen. Most of my props are still in boxes while the house is being decorated. It took three trips with a gravy boat of warm water to thaw out the windscreen.
I am fed up with being a gimp for this stupid car. The gravy boat incident is one of many low points in our wretched relationship. (Although being locked inside was possibly the lowest for me.) I am officially ready for a different car.
I'm back from a couple of days in Harrogate at this year's Nuffield Conference. This is where the returning scholars present their findings, each giving a fifteen minute presentation about where they have been and what they have learnt.
I presented at the conference last year which was an unexpectedly nerve-wracking experience. It was a relief to be there without a job to do.
This was a bit like being in the second year at school. It is such a relief not to be the rookie anymore that it's tempting to abuse your position and bog wash the first years or give them an apple pie bed...
I am a huge fan of Richard Herring's work. His blog is inspired. This entry in his blog is hilarious and interesting but no more than usual. If you are the sort of person that only has room for one blog in their life then please do not click on the link - you are unlikely to come back here again.
Now that I am living in Saracens Head, I am taking full advantage of the local services. Both of them. We have a pub, a farm shop and no other things. I have used both of them already.
I had an Australian Nuffield scholar called Tim here to stay this week. He arrived at the house on Tuesday evening a couple of hours before I was able to get there. I suggested that he should wait in the pub over the road and that I would go across when I got home which is what he did. I phoned him while I was driving back to ask how I would know who he was.
"Oh, you'll know alright", he said intriguingly. When I walked in there were only two people in the whole pub. One of them was an eighty year old man with a German Shepherd dog and the other was a tall, ruddy-faced bloke in a rugby shirt. I was very tempted to go up to the old man, or even his dog, saying, "G'day mate. You must be Tim."
Anyway he was an interesting house guest. Although I normally detest catchphrase comedy, I struggled to resist an overwhelming urge throughout his stay to do Kath and Kim impersonations. ("That's noice, Timmoy. Look at moy, look at moy")
The second use of the village facilities was equally successful.
"Ah, you're the boy of Naylor who's bought Dean's house, aren't you?" said the chap in the farm shop. Actually Harry Dean died in 1981, around about the same time that I stopped considering myself to be a boy. Evidently things move slowly in Saracens Head.
I am liking the "Boy Naylor" nickname, though.
I had to nip to Tesco last night to buy some milk (I spare you none of the details from my fascinating life, do I?).
There were queues at all the checkouts. In front of me was a really well built and thuggish-looking man with a football shirt on. He had a shaved head, a tatoo and an earing. He was getting very agitated about having to queue.
"I don't want to queue. I've got what I want and now I just want to get served and get out of here," he said very angrily to what I assume was his girlfriend (I'm pretty sure it wasn't his mother). This was actually the most obvious thing that he could have said. If Sam, my two year old nephew, had said it I would have told him,
"Like, duh, Einstein, and everyone else is here for their own amusement, are they?." (I'm trying to teach him sarcasm at the moment)
And then I looked and saw what the thuggy guy was buying. It was a lone Milky Bar.
Last Wednesday night was the Farmers Weekly Awards. I don't want to be too gushing about it or anything in case you think that I am contractually obliged to be but it was a brill. night. There was so much gossip and scandal, little of which was suitable for publication however...
Why on earth do we have to change the clocks? It doesn’t change the length of the day. The sun doesn’t wear a watch for heaven’s sake.
I really can’t be faffing around altering ten clocks twice a year. Doesn’t it make more sense to just get up or start work earlier or later when you need to? It’s not as though everyone gets up/starts work at the same time anyway.
If it was up to me there would just be one time zone for the planet. It might be that in some countries it would be normal to go to bed at 3.00am but so what, for most students it is already. Technology has made the planet a small place. I’m sure the world will be a much happier and more peaceful place when we are all speaking one language, driving on the same side of the road and using a single currency. I am not holding out much hope of living to see this.
the way that I try to run my life and business is to bear a bit of bother now to make life better and more straight forward tomorrow. The UK however seems to operate the other way around both in financial and environmental terms. There is a Have Now, Pay Later culture which is selfish, narrow-minded and short-sighted.
Surely changing the clocks for just few months is like revaluing our currency for a month before Christmas to give consumers more money. Probably I shouldn’t have said that – the Bank of England might adopt it.
This entry is pretty well all about gardening and stuff. I don't enjoy reading other people's blogs about their twee country lifestyles so if you don't either you might want to give this entry a miss.
There is a lot going on at the new house. The builders have nearly finished painting the windows and doors and I employed a local gardening contractor to remove the conifer hedge that surrounded the garden.
I bloomin' well hate leylandii. It looks rubbish and it grows out of hand. There was a very attractive wrought iron fence hidden in the hedge which I was keen to preserve so the job wasn't as straight forward as it might have been. The fence is old and rusty is going to need a bit of repairing. In fact for a start it made the place look like a haunted house. I was worried that the local children would think that I was Boo Radley....
It's a funny game, this blogging business. On the one hand, you need to have enough going on around you to write about. On the the other hand, if you get too busy there is no time to observe what's going on or to write about it.
So we go straight from the absurd situation of me spending a month in the company of just a bunch of potatoes to a ridiculously busy diary. I have been so focused on getting from one place to another and ticking jobs off lists that I haven't even opened the blog page up.
It's too early to say what impact this neglect had on the (phoney) battle with Tim but it can't have been good. We would almost certainly have lost World War II if Churchill had had to get his potatoes lifted that month.
It is probably best to do an entry for each thing I've done this week.
Well. Peace has finally broke out. This blog is now once more best friends with Catc.. I mean Field Day. The matter was settled with a handshake at the Farmers Weekly Awards on the 31st.
You have done your bit. If we have lost the contest and we end up with a picture of a kitten wearing an Easter bonnet on here then so be it; we must be manly about it. If you are a new reader who came to lend your support during the battle, hopefully you will stick around. I'm not sure why you would, my lack of recent entries has shown nothing but contempt for you. The good news is that I've been very busy travelling about and have got a stack of stuff to tell you. But not tonight - I'm kernackered and not in the mood. It will be funnier if I write about it tomorrow.
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