July 2008 Archives

So the Doha round of the World trade negotiations have collapsed.  This is a sad end to seven years of negotiations.

It is a bold aim to work towards a global community and successful negotiations would have been good news.  Eventually it will be successful of course and we will wonder what the fuss was about.  It may not happen any time soon.

(The DOHA round of the WTO, Matthew?  A bit serious isn't it?  I know, curiously my mentor, DR, and I appear to have swapped roles for the day)

The world has changed a lot in the last seven years.  China and India are wealthier and have a stronger hand than when the process started. 

Farm subsidies in developed countries seemed unacceptable a few years ago.  Now, with the prospect of food shortages, perhaps national governments are less willing to discard their productive capacity. 

I've always found it a bit curious that within these negotiations Europe's corner was being fought by Peter Mandelson.   His position is very different from the protectionist countries within Europe. 

When I was in Brussels a couple of months ago, I was suprised by how universally disliked Mandelson seemed to be.  Most of the comments about him were largely personal (often homophobic) so I paid them little regard.  This said, I can't think of a character with less desire for a profitable British Agricultural Industry than Mandy.  I'm all for free trade but what the hell is he proposing that we sell in exchange for food?  Andrew Lloyd Webber musicals for Christ's sake?  We don't produce anything anymore.

The matter is possibly too complex for a gibbon like me to comment on.  I don't disagree that the solution to helping poor nations is to help them to develop their infrastructure and to engage them in trade.  In a world where fuel is increasingly valuable, I'm not convinced that it has to be food that is traded.

I am hoping to go to Africa later in the year to report back on the FARMAfrica appeal.  Rising food prices have pushed millions more people there into poverty and hunger.  The world surely has a duty to share its wealth by whatever means to alleviate suffering.

There is a deep irony here of course.  Amidst the desperation in Africa is the world's most successful cut flower industry.  Competition from Kenya and Africa has brought the English flower industry to the brink of destruction.  

I could go round in circles on this.  Let's face it if I can't make my mind up, there's little bloody chance of 153 countries agreeing on it. 

Did you hear the Radio 4 documentary today about food inflation?  You catch it again here.

It was an intelligent analysis of food inflation presented by Tom Heap.  I heard Tom speak at the Oxford Farming Conference a few years ago.  He is a very balanced and well-informed countryside reporter and it is a shame that the BBC don't use him more frequently.

One of my favourite websites allows people to display pictures of those rude/polite notes that people leave for one another.  Here's are my recent favourites.

The commodity bubble could be about to burst says Roger Bootle.  He's my favourite economist (bad luck there, Sean Rickard).

This means oil prices could drop quite a bit.  Certainly wheat prices have dropped a whole lot already.

For all the hyperbole about demand from Asia and climate change, consumption hasn't altered that remarkably in commodities in the last twelve months.  On top of this there will inevitably be a supply response from producers.  Certainly farmers are striving to maximise production (and consequently reduce prices again) 

The real reason that prices have escalated are all the speculators and investors in the city who have artificially stimulated demand.  Millions of people in the world have been forced into poverty and hunger by rising food prices on the back of it.

For the first time in my life I am struck by the severe human impact of those tosspots in the city and the recent displacement of wealth makes me feel sick.

Today was pretty pants in many respects but I had a bit of fun this afternoon when Sally Elkington came over from Lincs FM farming programme to do an interview.

We are quite lucky to have Lincs FM.  Unlike many local stations, it is independent so it really focuses its efforts on local listeners and advertisers.  Sally puts together a really good programme each week and you can listen to her podcast here.

We had a natter about what was going on on the farm here and then about the Pure Tilth podcast (there is a new episode going up this week by the way).

Anyway.  I had a little while on a tractor and trailer carting daffodil bulbs today so, since she was coming, I decided to have a listen to Lincs FM.  I remembered why I don't listen to much local radio.

There was a phone in asking listeners "What would be your ideal job?"  A female caller said that her dream job would be as back scrubber to Marti Pellow.  MARTI PELLOW???? For Christ's sake.  Livin' in the Eighties or what.  Get in the here and now, woman.  Update your fantasy bathee please.

Nothing else to report today I'm afraid

This entry starts seriously.  Goes on seriously.  Then gets a bit bizarre at the end.

I must have told you this already but we have started growing some gladioli this year.

Some people think they are naff...   

I want one of these.  (This is one of those strange Sunday morning caffeine trips btw)

It's a little eco home.  You can check out the website here.

The hippy half of me (it's a fairly repressed portion of my personality.  OK, "personality") would love to live in one of these, like a little Fen Teletubby.  I could stick it in the middle of a delphinium field.

It's the capitalist half of me that knows I need to have a home made of concrete.  He would insist on a eco garage at the side to park the Bentley Continental GT in.  Does everyone have this split personality?  A simple core contained within the hard shell that you need to survive on the planet in the 21st century.

It would only be possible to live a simple life if you were able to live in a completely secure and self-sufficient community.

As we strive to make our farm more self-sufficient and bio-diverse, the idea of creating a "Shire" and only allowing in fellow hobbits seems increasingly attractive and possible.

This is a long, intense entry for my own benefit.  It's summed up more succinctly and light-heartedly in the next entry so you may prefer to look at that instead.  This is not reverse psychology by the way, it really is a dull entry.

Hello to any new readers who are having a look after the feature in today's magazine.  Thanks for visiting.

Wasn't that picture of Guy Smith in full pearly regalia authentic-looking?  Now you can see how skilled the picture department are with their Photoshop software.  This explains how they make the paunch, baldness and red face look so convincing in the picture that accompanies my column.

Anyway.  Today I am in a good mood.  We are finally completing the landscaping at the front of the farmyard.  We think we have finally worked out how to handle gladioli in the packhouse.  We are finally in control of Project X (still can't talk about it, sorry).  We have finally broken the back of the daffodil bulb harvest.  And most importantly I have managed to cook the perfect potato rosti tonight.

I love having friends over for dinner.  It's a good excuse to get away from work at a sensible time.  Tonight was quite an impromptu dinner but I had been toying with the rosti idea all week and had been doing reconnaissance.  When I discussed rosti cooking with Liz on Thursday she said

"Matthew, you MUST get all the water out of them.  I cannot stress that enough."  So after I grated them I put the bloomin' things in a teatowel and squeezed them until there was water pouring out of teatowel and forehead. 

Excellent rostis if I say so myself.  Sirloin steak, home-grown salad, asparagus and (this is a particularly pretentious touch) horseradish croutons. 

I know that sometimes the desperation shows through in the topics here but I have never previously had to stoop as low as telling you what I have eaten for my dinner.  I promise this is a one off.  Those rostis were a bloomin' triumph.

You know how normally the midges come out on a hot day?  Well so, it appears, do the salesman.  We had loads of them yesterday.

I thought that cold-calling salesmen were a dying breed but the weather seemed to bring them out.

This must be quite a difficult job.  It's a bit embarrassing to have to do all the sales thing.  We had one yesterday who was really over-excited about what he was selling.  He was in the office and was waving his arms around and spitting when he talked (say it don't spray it, please).  I was tempted to throw a glass of water at him or slap his face to get him to calm down.

Anyway.  I had another chap ring up in the afternoon who was trying to sell me something.  I said I wasn't interested at the moment - I was too polite (or weak) to say that I never would be. 

"You'd better take my number down" he said

"Oh no that's OK" I said.

"No. Take it down" he insisted.  He was one of those bossy, know-all types.

So I pretended to write it down as he said it.

"07863"

"07963, yeh" I said

I then repeated the number as he said it as though I was writing it a bit at a time.

"OK he said.  Read it back to me to check that you've got it down right." 

I hadn't got a clue what it was. 

"What was that? It's not a very good line."

"Read it back to me to check that you've got it down right" he said perfectly clearly.

"No sorry, I can't hear anything. I'll just... " Click

It's all about the racing pigeon today.  It's good to have a bit of content for the Northern readership (although I appreciate that their needs are normally amply catered for by Boy Bedford, whom, I imagine, is an avid pigeon fancier himself)

Right, back to base.  You know those motorcyle stunt display teams (bear with me).  They weave in and out of one another without crashing and being killed to death.  Well I have been rehearsing a similarly spectacular bit of choreography with a retired racing pigeon and a Toyota forklift.

Said pidge entered my life yesterday.  It is wearing a little tag around its leg which suggests that it should really be competing in some sort of race.  Well it ain't.  It's taken up residence in the grading shed at Sycamore Farm instead. 

Cue (or should that be "coo") one disappointed flat-cap and braces wearing Northerner somewhere staring forlornly at an empty wicker basket and an equally empty trophy cabinet.  Maybe said Northerner is staring forlornly at an empty frying pan - I'm not sure how they celebrate second place birds what with soaring food prices.

Basically the bird was a little bit discombobulated when it arrived.  Maybe it was extremely thirsty, maybe it had grown cynical about competitive sport (akin to my own position on the matter), maybe it is faking it's own death like that bogus canoeist.  Never mind all that - it is still here.

Anyway, it works like this.  I drive across the yard on the forklift.  Pidge walks slowly along straight into my path.  I close my eyes and proceed F S ahead.  Pidge emerges from other side seemingly in perfect working order.  I've been counting.  It's been under the forklift 7 times.  It's like when then house fell on Buster Keaton (or Chaplin or Harold Lloyd or whoever) and he was standing where the front door aperture was.  This is high-end silent comedy.  All it needs is a pithy commentary from Harry Hill. 

Each time I imagine I am going to see a pigeon pizza in my rear view mirror but when we regroup old "feathers" is unscathed.

The skill with displays like this is that they are a team effort.  It's like ballroom dancin' - one leads and one follows.  You can't both be in charge of the not crashing.  One person has to carry on as usual.  They are the stooge.  This part is my job.

The other party is the skilled division within the operation.  They are in charge of not being compressed by a solid industrial tyre. This is where the pigeon comes in.  The stunt hinges on my ability to carry on as though nothing is happening.

I had failed, in the past, to see the merits of keeping a pigeon as a pet.  Surely this is like having a nettle as a house plant.  But I now realise that there is something quite touching about the relationship between a man and his pigeon.  We certainly have a special something going on here: we are the Torvill and Dean of the daffodil bulb harvesting world. 

I'm not on the forklift now, someone else has taken over from me.  I fear that they will not understand the relationship as instinctively as I do; the pigeon doesn't speak after all, its performance is essentially a mime-based act. 

There is the obvious danger that they will assume that our feathered friend is a fool.  They will violate the routine and slam on the brakes trying to miss the little fellow.  This, I suspect, is the recipe for pigeon pate.

Wait there a minute, I'm just going next door to get the magazine article that I want to write about.

Right, I'm back.  After my very public falling out with the Guardian and Independent (if you can call moaning on a little-read blog, very public) I am back with the Telegraph.

Yesterday there was an article with Charlie Higson which made me stomp up and down.  In answer to the question "What do you wish had never been invented?" he replied "Biofuels, they will destroy the planet and are responsible for food shortages."

Now don't get me wrong, I'm not a champion of biofuels as you know, but I hate "celebrities" commenting on this stuff to be fashionable.  In the article he talks about playing computer games and expenses-paid trips to Jamaica (presumably travelling by pedallo).  He is therefore the one who is responsible for causing food shortages - it is consumers not producers who control markets. 

This follows on from my thoughts about cotton clothing which indirectly raises food prices.  So does wool clothing.  So does eating 2000 calories a day instead of 1400.  So does drinking a glass of wine.  So does consumption of anything: we live on a crowded planet.

If Charlie Higson wants to make a humanitarian gesture he should stay at home and switch his computer off.  Or buy a farm and sell the food at a loss like we have been doing in the UK for a decade.

Starvation is being caused by poverty not biofuel production.  There is always a supply response from producers when demand increases for anything.  I didn't get an education in economics or politics but it seems pretty obvious even to me.  If democracy is inextricably linked to a market-driven economy (and it seems to be) and peace is linked to international trade, then this is the system we are landed with. (Think about it - history hasn't produced many obese comrades.)

We will never see food equilibrium until we have economic/educational equilibrium between nations and regretably that is many years off. 

I don't know what you are going to think of me.  I've done something a bit out of character.  Basically, I've gone and bought a bloomin' pair of organic trousers.  But be patient, I've got to set the scene a bit.

We have had a good deal more rain than we expected.  The remains of the daffodil bulb harvest are having to wait and I find myself with a weekend on my hands.  The trouble with days off is that they usually involve spending money and, true to form, I have had a rare shopping trip today.

I get to spend loads of time with my Dad because we work so closely together and less time with my Mum.  It was nice to have the opportunity to spend a bit of time with her today even if it did involve trailing around department stores looking at sofas and curtain fabric. 

I'm a believer in virtuous circles and so as a proud supplier of stuff to Waitrose and M&S, I tend to buy most of my clothes and new stuff for the house at John Lewis and M&S.  I managed to get everything that I needed in a couple of hours including sofa, curtain fabric, clothes and, most importantly, coffee and cake.

Anyway.  These trousers.  We all have matching shirts at work with our logo on - I don't allow the team much freedom of expression in this respect.  This saves precious minutes in the morning which would otherwise be spent gazing blankly into a wardrobe.  No wonder they call me Chairman Maotthew.

Trouser-wise, however, we all go free-style.  A navy polo shirt works with pretty much any trouser you chuck at it.  Denim, combat, white hotpant or even, heaven forbid, the chino; they all work.  Sometimes I mash it up: do a corduroy. 

What I tend to do with work trousers is buy four pairs of the same thing when I find something that fits me.  Sadly the best fit today was the M&S organic, cotton jeans.  I bought them because they feel lovely and are flattering on the bum (presumably they contain some sort of intricate scaffolding mechanism), they just happened to be organic.

I prefer the feel (both physical and emotional) of things that are made of natural materials like cotton, wool and wood (I'm always buying wooden trousers, me) to plastic, acrylic and polyester.  However, and this is the point of this entry, is it not actually unethical - when the world is short of food - that I am buying work clothes made from extensive farming techniques? 

Argentine farmers have measured methane emissions from cattle and discovered that it accounts for 30% of the country's greenhouse gas emissions.

The apparatus fitted to Daisy above was only a temporary measure for research.  Pity the poor work experience guy who had to empty all the tanks at the end.

I spoke to Andrew Booth today after mentioning him on here yesterday. 

We had a natter about the credit crunch and he said that he had appointed a "heavy" to chase some of his customers who had not paid within their credit terms.  The chap had been recommended to him as someone who gets results.

Boothy finally met the "heavy" yesterday and was rather suprised to discover that he was camper than Charles Hawtrey.  Since Andrew lives in Aberdeen, this may just mean that he wears a jumper when the temperature drops below 3 degrees C.

I'm not a qualifield commentator, but I'm pretty well convinced that Hillary Benn has got it wrong with his badger decision.

He has been dithering over the issue for so long that I thought it inconceivable that he would not allow some licenced controls of badger populations on livestock farms.

Now I'm wondering if he had made his mind up and was just buying time.  It is easy now to suspect that he never intended to allow badgers to be culled and that he was praying to be moved to a new cabinet position before he was forced into a decision. 

It must be hard to be a politician.  When we interviewed Benn for the podcast in January, he was pondering the decision and he came across as a reasonable and considerate man trying to hear the views of all parties.  My feeling then was that he had not been a natural sympathiser for British farmers but that he was trying to be fair.

Now I'm not so sure.  His comment in the House of Commons yesterday that he knew farmers affected "would be disappointed and angry" seemed to me to be an admission that he had failed them.

I believe that Blair and Brown's governments have brought some positive changes to this country but where agriculture has been concerned, I can't think of a single helpful decision that they have made.  I once believed that this was the fault of the agricultural industry for presenting an unprofessional face to government.  If that ever was the case, it certainly isn't now - the industry has worked very hard (and in difficult circumstances) to transform itself.  We have jumped through every hoop presented to us.  We have embraced environmental stewardship and demonstrated self-regulation through hundreds of schemed like the Voluntary Initiative, Assured Produce and LEAF.   

Whenever they have had a choice, the government has always acted against the interests of food producers. Ultimately this is acting against voters.  While the government continues to take food production for granted, they are in danger of exacerbating an already serious situation.

UK consumers will pay for the incompetence of these tits for a very long time to come.

My mate, Andrew Booth, the insane Scottish entrepreneur, has complained that I have to give him a plug as well as Katie.

Unlike Katie, he has asked for votes in not one, but two awards.  Why stop there?   You can go for a triple whammy and nominate him for a place on the Sex Offender's Register if you like.

Anyway.  Here is his desperate plea in full.

Dear customer and friend,

The Store really needs your help to win 2 major awards, and the deadlines are looming...

1.  
In 2007 your vote helped us to come 2nd in the Scottish region, pipped at the post by worthy winner Arbroath Smokies!
In 2008 we really need your vote to win.  The deadline is 14th July, so if you have a spare 3 minutes when you get this e-mail,
please register and vote.  Even better, read our comments and write a review yourself.

Vote for The store Edinburgh or The Store Aberdeen at
http://uktv.co.uk/food/localfoodhero/search


2.
Vote for The Store Edinburgh in the category of Best Local Food Retailer, or The Store Aberdeen as Best Food Producer, or Andrew Booth for Best Farmer in these widely publicised awards at:
http://www.bbc.co.uk/radio4/factual/foodawards2008.shtml

Deadline for votes:  August 10th 2008

Thanks so much for taking the time to do this, we really appreciate your help.

The Store team

I really object to people abusing their powers as bloggers.

I've just been here to vote for my friend Katie's business, Couture Cakes, in the UKTV Food Heroes competition.

It would be very easy for me to suggest that all seven readers of this blog click on that link and vote for her as well in the hope that she would make me a delicious cake.  Mmmmm.

Obviously I wouldn't be so crass.  Mmmmm, Caaaaaaaaaaake

We have put another Pure Tilth podcast up on the website and on itunes, you can listen by clicking here.

There is an interview which Ian recorded with one of the Ladies in Pigs and we debate the merits of the 2p sausage in Asda.  Listen out for the woman in the background who keeps chipping in off mike during the interview.  I'm not talking abot me, although I keep chipping in like an old woman too.   This podcast features Christine Hope as a guest presenter.

We keep getting showers here.  Part of the daffodil grading line is outdoors so each time there is a shower, we draw a sheet over the bulbs and run for cover - me to my office and the grading team to the canteen.  We have got all the wet day tasks done already.  The yard and buildings have all been swept and I, for the first time in living memory, have got a clear desk (at least I have nothing to do that can be done on a Saturday).

This is why I keep writing these entries.

Anyway.  I thought that I would just have a tiny blather about inflation.  This week I stumbled across the annual farm reports of Oliver Walston.  He publishes them on his website here and has done for over thirty years.  Look, we've got some time, let's stick a tiny picture of the old subsidy-hater up here.  Get your telescope out - it's a tiddler.

His reports form a fascinating historical archive.  It is his honesty and breadth of vision which make them useful.  Oliver's candour has always made his writing and communication hugely enjoyable and I believe that he is one of agriculture's greatest assets.  I've always shared his bafflement at the CAP and love the way that he goads other farmers.

Not sure why I'm suddenly singing his praises, this blog is normally reserved for slagging people off.

Anyway.  Have a look at his reports from the late 70's.  Inflation was running at 15% (guess who was in government) and, although commodity prices were high, it was a challenging time to farm.

We can look back at these reports and laugh at anyone thinking that nitrogen was expensive at £30 a tonne or tractors too costly at £7000.  Any ass can be smart with hindsight.  What can we learn from this now?

My conclusion is that inflation will always feature in our lives as long as the population grows and living standards increase.  As anyone who did (or more particularly anyone who didn't) buy a house between 1998 and 2007 will tell you, the most important thing during inflation is to keep buying.  Anything that you don't buy will be more expensive tomorrow and money in the bank becomes less valuable every day.

If you need it and you can afford it, you have to have it.  I reckon that when inflation is painful you have to fix your gaze on your long term goal and get down to work. 

I'll see you in debtor's gaol, I guess.

Whoops.

Lord Jamie Oliver has launched a pasta sauce which is very high in salt.  One jar contains nearly five times more than the recommended daily allowance of salt for a child.

I shouldn't, what with him being a saint and all, but I can't help but take a little delight in this story.  After all, Jamie cost the Bernard Matthews business a packet when he criticised their Turkey Twizzlers.  He deserves to receive exactly the same scrutiny that he has placed others under.

Yummy.  What could be wrong with them?  I don't particularly enjoying defending crap food but I'm not at all outraged by cheap protein meals like Turkey Twizzlers or intensive chicken.  I do object to the crusades and the preaching of attention junkies like Jamie Oliver and Hugh Fearnley Whittingstalled-Tesco-Challenge (btw, I bet his Tesco shares are worth way more than he paid for them by now - he'll probably buy a load more).

Bernard Matthews grew up during a time of food shortages.  The fact that he was able to make cheap, convenient food available for millions of people should mark him out as a champion among his generation.  The fact that he made those tasty, affordable meals out of turkey bumholes rather than more turkeys should make him the turkeys' hero too.

We are all products of the zeitgeist in which we grow up.  It is possible that the problem with Bernard Matthews is that he responded too well to what was asked of him by his customers.  His company grew too big and beyond his control. 

In the article behind the link at the top, the Oliver PR machine actually puts a very credible spin on the story.  I'm sure that J.O. is a perfectly decent guy.  He is only tapping into current demands to make a huge amount of money in the same way that Bernard Matthews did.  They both have a lot in common and both use the media to sell huge volumes of mass-produced food.

People can eat what the hell they like as far as I'm concerned.  But I would suggest that if we actually want decent food, then there is much to be said in favour of decentralisation.  It doesn't worry me either way but I am not convinced that the population of the UK would be happy to see us return to 30% of their income and 30% of our workforce expended on food production.    

I have just driven a load of daffodil bulbs back to the yard from St Lamberts Hall.  I was cruising along nicely at 50kph on a John Deere with a Bailey trailer on the back.

Next thing I know I'm stuck behind an "enthusiast" on one of these

It looked as immaculate as the one pictured.  Old matey boy at the wheel had got his high-viz jacket on - he was clearly heading to a tractor rally somewhere.

We were only doing about 16mph but the chap was battling with the steering to keep it in a straight line.  His elbows were rocking backwards and forwards like crazy; from behind it looked as if he was dancin' the funky chicken.  Either that or playin' two violins at once.

I reflected on the advances in technology in the last 40 years.  I was cocooned in luxury in comparison with my air con, air seat and cd player.  Possibly in 40 years time (when I would be 75) this latest John Deere 6930 will be comical to farmers of 35.  If I am still around - I will probably be feeling nostalgic.  God knows, I will probably still be driving this one and trying to make a living.

Will there ever come a day when we cannot necessarily take such progress for granted?  We hear the phrase "peak oil", will be ever reach "peak technology" or "peak knowledge."   

Not that I like to go on about it but it is my birthday today. The FW have been calling me a 35 year old for some time in my profile in the magazine.  I understand that Joan Collins and Zsa Zsa Gabor give different ages to the press from their actual ages and this is what has, inadvertently, happened to me. 

My actual age was 34.  I guess from today I am officially middle-aged because I've now had half of my three score years and ten.

Hang on.  let's get a picture of Zsa Zsa Gabor on here.  We could do with an injection of glamour.  There's never enough Zsa Zsa in the Farmers Weekly and it is my birthday.

Aaaah, that's better.

Anyway.  My auntie brought a card and a box of Cadburys Miniature Heroes. 

"Is that what you think of me? A hero" I asked

"No" she replied. "But you can't buy Cadbury's Miniature Arseholes?"

LOOK.  It's the Prince of Charles and Camilla, Duchess of Head Scarf in the Aston.  I love the Prince of Charles and his lead on sustainability.

He has started converting all his things to run on renewable energy.  The Aston Martin has been converted to run on bioethanol made from surplus wine.

SURPLUS WINE?  I didn't realise there was such a thing.  Where do I apply?

Chris and Charles are both on holiday this week (in Magaluf, don't ask) so I am having to do some actual work.  You know, like proper men's jobs.  Today I have changed a set of wheels on a tractor, swapped a 6 ft web on the Herbert grader, mended some wiring and done stuff with sprockets and chains.

Once I get into the swing of things, I love a day like this.  I can pretend to be all macho.  Normally I'm chasing about trying to sort stuff out and I never get any real work done.  I can't even fit a pto shaft without my phone ringing and banging my head a load of times while I try to get in out of my pocket in a confined space.

It's a pity that it was the hottest day of the year so far.  Most of the jobs were strugglesome as it was so I have had steam coming out of my nose and ears most of the day.  I've never been one for working with my shirt off in hot weather - it takes a particular type of torso.  In fact it is a standing joke at work that I am always dressed incorrectly.

I always consult metcheck.com in the morning before I hit the wardrobe but it never works out.  If I wear a pair of cords and a hoodie then there's a pretty safe bet that the temperature will be over 30 degrees centrigrade by 10.00am.  If I wear shorts and a polo shirt, expect a wind chill of minus 3 and sleet showers.  

This is one of the problems with working outdoors.  How do other people sort this conundrum out?