August 2008 Archives

Apologies, I think that I've used a television catchphrase there although I'm not sure what it's from. 

Hooray for the burghers of Lewes in East Sussex.  They are launching their own currency next week.  This will be the first time they have had one since Queen Victoria was "on the throne", sorry, I meant on the throne.  It will be legal tender throughout the UK.

Oh eck.  Can you remember the photoshoot thing that I did in Derbyshire for the Waitrose Food Illustrated magazine.  It's out.  You can see the article here

I said that I would put the picture here unless it was bad.  Well it WAS bad but I'll put it here anyway.  I have to give each picture a filename before I can it on here.  I have given this one the filename "Idiot."  Enjoy

"Hey look over there, isn't that Matthew Naylor?"

"Christ.  I think it is.  What on earth is he's doing"

"I think he's break dancing.  Look.  He's bloody break dancing."

"Rather old school isn't it?"

"Look, look, he's wearing a tie"

"Oh. My. God, so he is.  What the hell does he think he looks like?"

"I'll tell you what there aren't many people in hip hop who can carry off a tie."

"No and he certainly can't"

"What's he's going to do next?  Body popping in a blazer and chinos?"

"Moon walking in a top hat, probably"

"He's a tit, isn't he?"

"Yup" 

David Handley is getting all revved up to give Tesco grief about their new Fresh n Lo brand.  I normally side with the retailers where David is concerned, I am not convinced that he has made every effort to get his business in shape and I'm not aware that he even supplies Tesco.  I've got a more open mind this time and I'm not sure what to think about these protests yet, I haven't read the reports properly.  I'll 'ave a Google, one minute.

I've just looked and the only reports that I can find are on FWi and on the BNP website (not one that I normally feel the need to look at); I hope that you'll forgive me for not providing a hyperlink to that.  I'm not suggesting that there are links between Farmers for Action and the BNP but they do seem remarkably well briefed about the protests.  Don't expect FFA to get favourable coverage in the Guardian or Independent if they were seen to move in those circles. 

Cutting prices in some food sectors while inflating those in others is neither reasonable nor sensible.  I wasn't aware that life was ever promised to be either of those things though.

I know it's becoming pretty bloody in retail.  The retail price of one of the flower products that we supply is being reduced by 25% today in an effort to get the sales figures up.  In the supply chain which I work in, we all agreed that discounting was the right thing to do.  We need to keep those sales.   

I will be able to tell you the effect it has in a couple of weeks.  If it increases sales, I will be able to calculate if it's better to sell all of my production at a lower price or to cut my production next year and sell less of it at a higher price.  Each time we discount we re-establish a lower price point in the consumers mind.  It's a flawed strategy and it's certainly not a long term solution but the option is to sell less product.

David and the milk producers have the same choicein a recession that I have, lay off staff, get rid of production, cut supply and sell less for more.  The trouble is there is always another kamikaze farmer prepared to do more for less.  Sometimes you need to have the courage to let them get on with it.

It is the same for all types of fresh produce with a long production lead time be it milk, potatoes, flowers, whatever.  We commit to produce it before we know what the demand is and it makes us weak negotiators.  We can only negotiate when there is a shortage and two potential customers.  At the moment there are always two potential suppliers.

This is the market economy that Margaret Thatcher strived to create.  Competition between suppliers drives down prices for consumers.  If farmers had supported a more diverse supply base then we would be in a better position too.  We didn't and so we deal with cartels and monopolies to buy most of our inputs.

Some say that the answer lies in powerful cooperatives to deal with the supermarkets.  This way competition between farmers is kept within the co-op.  The same process applies and gradually the most efficient producer takes over from the others.

It is sad for farmers just as it was sad for coal miners or steel workers who suffered under this system.  Although the process of change is painful, ultimately the logic works.  I would wager that a lot of the dairy farmers who are currently painting banners to wave outside Tesco were Tory voters in the 1980s.  I bet that there weren't many of them cheering support for Arthur Scargill.

Please argue with this post because I'm not sure that I like what I have just written.  I'm hopeful that this will rouse Mike P from his statin-induced meditative state.

Can you remember the crazy entries that I wrote last year when I was bulb dipping. Well it's that time of year again.  Some very early mornings for the next week or two.  Entries may become surreal.  We are on filter coffee this year rather than that Senseo thing, I wore it out good and proper.  Now I can make five mug fulls in a go.  We are currently on the Taylors Italian blend.

Coming to work at 5.30am is a revelation.  I have cross a busy A road to get from home to the farm and it isempty at that time of day.  30 minutes later and the roads are as busy as they would be at 8.30am. 

I love the feeling of being alone on the planet for a short while.  If someone dropped a nuclear bomb during the night I wouldn't realise for a couple of hours; the symptoms of radiation poisoning, like swollen blotchy skin, weak limbs and hair falling out, affect me on a good day.

Oh that title's good.  Real Good.

I'm normally moaning about Jamie Oliver on here, saying that he's a self-publicist with disproportionate influence, happy to stick his face in front of things he doesn't understand.

Well today, I like him.  He has given an interview to Paris Match which is reveals that he and I share exactly the same predjudices about our country of birth.  You can read the interview here.  Or here if you didn't so to school.  It's a classic example of him whipping up a mini controversy to promote his next programme but I'm fine with that now.

I even have to admit that I was impressed by his mate Jimmy's programme about farming.  You could see the influence of the NFU in a lot of it rather than the big single issue NGOs which was pleasantly reassuring - that's what we pay our subscription for.

I maintain, however, that we shouldn't depend on these two blokes as industry spokesmen.  Ultimately they are thinking about their own profiles and popularity and they could just as easily say bad or inaccurate things about food production.

It's a bloomin pity that farmers are too stoopid and ugly to get onto the telly themselves.

I'll tell you what else is going to change when I'm made Supreme Leader of the planet.  I'm going to start a new system for surnames.

You know how a lot of surnames are derived from ancient professions, like Baker,Cooper or Driver (I never realised that they had cars in Anglo Saxon times), well I think that we should start that again.

I started thinking about this the other night when Armstrong and Miller were on telly.  Those are two great English names - particularly Armstrong.  I like the idea of forebears who were strong of arm.  I've never met anyone called Tony Weaklegs, presumably that family died out, or Shirley Longtoes but maybe they exist.

I like the idea of becoming Matthew Farmer.  That sounds perfectly healthy and noble.  My system is designed to stop people doing a job that they don't believe in because "it pays the bills."

Actually I've just realised that I might be able to get a column for the magazine out of this idea.

I hate it when people say "my job doesn't define me."  As a farmer, one is very much living and breathing the task.  It would be a much better world if everyone invested as much of themselves and their beliefs into their work.

I think that suddenly there would be a rush for jobs that had a practical and productive side to them.  Would you want to be called Ian Auditor?  Or Keith Deskbased? 

It would be a lot easier when people arrived to do business with you too, "Hi I'm Barry Sprayrep."  Or when they phoned up, "Good Morning, my names Karen Cold-Caller, do you have a moment?"   

Right, I'm going to have yet another coffee and start writing this as a column

I'm a bit of a latecomer to this strand but apparently elsewhere on this site there has been discussion about a RABI competition for the best poem about wellies.

The Relfster is a judge along with Pam Ayres (I'm pretty sure that she is a different Pam to our own cool correspondent, Poodle Pam).

Anyway.  In case you've forgotten what she looks like, here's a picture of Tim Relf

The Relfster set the ball rolling on one of the forums with his own poem. 

They come in all shapes and sizes,
To suit kids tiny feet and big farmers' plates of meat,
Some like them green,
Some keep them clean,
Hunters are trendy,
All of them are bendy,
They keep out the rain,
And stop you going lame,
Where on earth would we be without wellies?

So they stop you going lame eh, Tim?  Well you ought to get a pair because that is the lamest poem that I have ever read.  Or was.  Until I read a bit further down this discussion forum.

I don't want to be too cruel to Tim after his excellent post on the World's Biggest Scotch Egg.  We sing from the same hymn sheet when it comes to sausages and related savouries.

I do hope that the standard rises.  This stuff gives the Vogons a run for their money.  And do check out Owd Fred, I'm sure he was the inspiration for Bert Fry. 

I managed to get half a day in a tractor today.  I have got to write my next column for the magazine this week and, since I've been occupied with bulbs and flowers, I hadn't given it much thought.

Tractor time is usually an opportunity to mull subjects over and this is where I normally assemble an idea.  Today, though, it was like rattling an empty tin.  I was like a zombie.

The pressure is on because my mate, Jules, wrote a pretty good piece for the Growers page of the Lincolnshire Free Press this week.  It was about incorporating tractor exhaust gas into the soil where the carbon yuk and nitrous poison act as a fertiliser. Similar article here. 

Unfortunately he performed a cardinal sin by signing off the article with the awful cliche "Interesting Times."  Oh Jules.  It was like going out for a delicious five course meal with fine wine and then being served Haribo and a cup of Mellow Birds at the end.  He knew that he had dropped one the minute that he sent the email to the paper.

I've been mocking him all week saying "Yep, interesting times" after every comment that he makes.  I wish I hadn't made such a big deal about it because now I've got to come up with something better before Friday.

Interesting Times.

Now that we've cleared up all the dog mess, back to the Prince of Charles.  I still can't entirely make up my mind about his comments on GM.  I don't agree with his scepticism about science in food production, comments like his are often heard too simplisticly by consumers and a complex debate becomes needlessly polarised.  He is right that GM (and research in general) is dominated by huge corporations and I share his view that this is wrong. 

Personally I would prefer to see more government funding applied to the practical use of new breeding technology to reduce pesticide and water use.  The benefits of this (cheap food and cleaner air and water) are not something that on their own would motivate a profit-driven company.

I do admire Charles' passion, however, and the way that he tries to lead by his own example.  He has a curious role in the country's governance and I like the fact that he is not afraid to be left-field.

I thought that you might enjoy the counter argument to his comments from the unfailingly excellent Dennis Avery.  (Henry Fell always distributes Dennis' articles).  I don't always entirely agree with him, I'm not happy to take a chance on global warming for starters, but his stuff is always full of facts and brilliantly written.

Thanks for bearing with me for the dog thing.  I didn't realise what we were getting into there.  The problems are a great deal more serious and wide-spread than I ever imagined.  Probably owning a dog actually sends you a bit deranged.  We know that this happens with cat owners. 

Before we draw a veil over the whole thing and form a pact that we never speak of it again, here is your final image.  ENJOY

Is it wrong to find that commentary just a little bit sexy?  Bon bon au farce

Normal service now resumes

Only one day left of this dog rubbish after today's atrocities.

I couldn't decide which to use so I'm going to let you vote on which one should be today's featured costume.  Steel yourself, it's not going to be easy.  Leave your vote in the comment section...

Day Five of the festivities and time for the fifth dog in drag.  I can't tell you how excited I was when I found these photos.  Just as sickening as the others, naturally, but in a good way.

I didn't realise that there were fancy dress shops for dogs.  I knew that the world was a bad place but I didn't realise it was this bad....

I've kind of slipped away from the subject of farming with all this dog stuff.  I can't write about work; the weather is just too crumby.

So let's go to Illinois where each year they hold a hog-calling competition.  This year a woman has won it for the first time ever.  Have a listen.  She's bloomin' good.  I bet those hogs come from miles around.

Have any of you seen Deliverance?

This is pretty desperate, I admit but where Fairy PodMother, Heather, leads, we have to follow.

I have started a fan site on Facebook for the Pure Tilth podcast.  

Isabel said that there are a lot of people reading this bumf now and I'm bloomin' intrigued who you all are.  If you click here you can sign up as an official fan of the podcast and I can see who you all are.

I know, it's getting a bit tiresome now.  I wish that I hadn't started this now.  Just three more days, that's all.

It was a sunny afternoon here and in the last few hours of work I was thinking how good a nice cold pint would be after work.  The anticipation of these things is always the best bit.

Anyway I agreed to meet my mate, Jules, at 8.00 when we had both finished work.

Going to a pub is pretty rare for me at this time of year, although not as rare as me eating fish and chips (I have already equipped you with that useful information).  What an exciting week...

Where's our dog, Matthew?

Here she is.

The intervening years have clearly not been kind to Linda Carter.  She doesn't seem to be correctly-fastened "down below" either...

Think of this as a bit like the NSPCC's full stop campaign.  However painful it is to look at, it is only by highlighting this abuse that we might be able to stop it.

Is that a Pekinese wearing that space shuttle corset?

Oh, and tomorrow's is an absolute belter

The Relfster is on the hunt for giant panther over on Catchat.  Meanwhile here in the Fens we have had a visit from a mystery animal.

When I went down to our nursery at Vickers Farm this morning, there were mysterious footprints (we call them animal tracks in the trade) where a "beast" had been in one of the polytunnels.  The site down there is securely fenced to keep rabbits out so we can't work out either what it is or where it came from.

Have a look, why don't you.

It's not a fox print, although there are plenty of them about.

FWi supremo, Isabel, sent an email to say that this blog has received it's biggest viewing figures ever this week.  They are quite suprisingly high.  Cheers everyone.

Clearly the poodle stuff is dynamite when it comes to attracting new readers.  I can see where Catchat is coming from.

To celebrate you can have a picture of a dog in a stoopid costume every day for the next week.

Here's today's.  Look at his miserable little face

He even co ordinates with the new colour scheme on the blog, bless him.

If I were his keeper, and I can't stress to you enough that I'm not, then I would be sorting out the damp around that skirting board rather than dressing up my dog as a Star Wars character.  And be careful that rug doesn't slip on the laminate floor.

The flower industry, indeed the world of retailing in general, has been anxiously wondering what impact the credit crunch will have on sales.

Historically economic downturns have not had a significant negative impact on the cut flower market.  The argument here being that consumers spend their money on small affordable treats for the home and garden rather than on house moves, cars or holidays.

This time it could be different.   

So what are you going to write about today, Matthew?  Poodles, Potato Statistics or Toilet Humour?

Toilet Humour, today.  Well, I say toilet humour.  It's more like toilet rage. 

First off, though, I didn't get time for any lunch yesterday.  I was ravenous by late afternoon. We had a bulk load of bulbs to dispatch for Holland last night so it was going to be a late finish and I didn't think that I would be able to hold out.  I was naughty and bought a bag of chips on the way back from a meeting in Spalding.  I never do that normally, I only have fish and chips once in a blue moon. 

Anyway.  I ate these chips at my desk when I got back so the office reeked of fried food this morning but this was only the start.

I know that you come here for the dog art and the potato statistics.  I'm fully aware of that.

The reason that I come here is to unload adventitious details which would otherwise clutter my mind.  Somedays my hard drive is so clogged with trivia that I barely have the mental capacity to operate my arms and legs.

Today I wish to offload one of my earliest and most troubled memories, an event that happened in the late seventies.  It is the reason that I cannot watch Dad's Army.  Yes, be intrigued.

OK, we've got to go to Las Vegas.  This is where they hold Super Groom, an annual event where the deranged compete to make their dogs look weird.

Exhibit A, your honour

This is "Missy" dressed up in the theme of "Hoochy Poochy Parlour."  Is that doin' it for ya?  A dog dressed as a whore in fishnet tights, is that what you expected to see on here today?  Oh Lord, spare us from ever seeing into the dark corners of that woman's mind.

What do you mean this is all making you feel a bit weird?

Are you ready for another one? 

I've just received my favourite ever comment for an entry.  It's just here.  It's a bloomin' corker; there's length and anger.  I like a squabble and it's been a while since I got all that hate mail about the chicken stuff here and here. 

In the most fabulous turn of events, I've got into battle with a woman called Pam.  The subject is poodles.  It's the most excitin' thing that's happened all week.

I said that an elaborately-trimmed standard poodle as a pet would be too poncey for me.  Pam said that I've got a lower IQ than a poodle (she may be right on that one).  She also said that I'm not "confident in my masculinity."   Well let me tell you, Pam, I've been openly male for years.

She still hasn't persuaded me that taking a coiffured standard poodle for a walk through the village would convince anyone that I am straight.

I just reread an entry from a few days ago where I wrote that

"I also like to travel about in the winter and a pet can be a tie"

I meant that a pet can tie you down.  I was not suggesting that a pet can be worn around your neck and nor should it.  OK maybe a snake could but I don't want to get bogged down in the subject.

We have had a few international lorry drivers collecting daffodil bulbs this week.  One of them arrived with a teenage son who climbed out of the cab and was sick in the middle of the yard thrice.  He then started drinking Lucozade (which would be a sure fire way of making me retch).  Normally this sort of thing would result in a long and wry anecdote but because I was busy, I absolutely failed to see anything funny about it. 

We finally finished "landscaping" the front of the flower packhouse at the start of the week and the site had finally started to look tidy.  Although we still have stacks to do over the winter, we have invested a lot of time, cash and effort over the last 12 months into getting this external phase finished.  All that was missing of course was those three piles of Lucozade-coloured sick as the crowning glory.  Hang on, I'm going to take a photo.  Not of the sick, of the packhouse.

I appreciate that this bit of the farm looks pretty industrial.  Sadly there aren't many stone barns or brick stable blocks in this part of the world.  In the absence of character or architectural significance, we are at least trying hard to keep a tidy site particularly in those areas where we handle cut flowers.  No one expects to receive a bouquet covered in mud and sick after all.

It's nearly 8.00pm and I'm about to lock up the office and go home after a busy, tense but productive week.  Although we are working through the whole weekend, I'm hoping to switch off my telephone and recharge my batteries a bit.  Who knows, by Sunday I might be able to actually write something interesting without moaning about how tired I am. 

We don't have the normal farm excitement of a four week harvest in the summer.  We are harvesting crops from February until October (and if we've really annoyed the rain gods, sometimes November).  In fact we haven't grown any wheat on the farm for a decade.

August is still our busiest month and we have loads of different things going on.  This is also the time of year when we have to make final cropping decisions for next year.  Dad and I are struggling to find time to sit down and thrash out budget plans (there are a few opportunities on the table and we have both got big shopping lists and different priorities in our own areas). 

We don't do that thing that they do on the Archers,

Tom Archer "Dad, can I call a meeting with you tomorrow"

Tony Archer "I can't do tomorrow, can we make it Thursday?"

We both end up grabbing a few minutes to chat when we can.  Which has been not at all this week. 

We needed to collect a spare part for the sprayer on Wednesday night from Lincoln which someone had left outside for us to collect.  So we decided to go together so that we could talk on the way there.  Dad wanted to take the menoPorsche because it was a sunny night.  Unfortunately I fell asleep within three minutes of us getting going (I'm pooped at the moment.  I even yawned the other day, I never yawn).  I did the same thing on the way home.

Have you ever slept in a menoPorsche? (or a child's wardrobe or on a small heap of large rubble - the effect's the same)  I feel as though a steamroller has taken a shortcut across my upper back today.  No, wait.  I feel like a man who has got on the wrong side of Jackie Chan.  Or do I mean Jackie Collins?  Who was the bloke who did the karate and wrote Hollywood Wives, I mean him. 

Anyway, we still haven't sorted out next year's plan. 

I set myself a stack of jobs to do before the end of the day yesterday and I ended up caught outside in a very heavy rain shower before I was finished.  I didn't want to stop what I was doing because I wanted to be home before 9.00 so I got soaked to the bone. 

In a peverse way, it was very refreshing to be cold after running at boiling point all day.  The hot shower at home afterwards was very comforting.  Strangely it took me right back to school showers after rugby.   I have had a number of showers in the intervening years but I have never had a flashback like that before.  I think it must have been the temperature differential that triggered my memory last night, either that or the PE teacher who was standing in the bathroom in a tracksuit yelling at me to "do the nooks and crannies." 

"So what message would you like on the cake"

"Could you please write 'Best Wishes, Suzanne' and underneath that 'We will miss you'"

I've just been talking to my mate, Will, who works in design - he's much cooler than me.  We were talking about the blog's new look.  He said that it reminded him of a bit of some old Lincolnshire promo.  He then managed to find it.

I hope that I don't get put in prison for breaking copyright law by reprinting it here.  It's hardly worth doing bird over.

Anyway.  There's something funny about unexpectedly getting this new look.  It's a bit like that programme "10 years younger" where someone else decides what your face is going to look like for the rest of your life.

I quite like the idea really.  I hate making decisions.  I've worked for myself since I was a teenager and I constantly have to make decisions.  When I screw up, there is no one else to blame.  When you have a business and staff you carry the can for everything and it feels like a heavy responsibility.

Much as I would love to be pedantically questioning the intimate graphical detailing of this page, I'm pleased that someone else is sorting it out.  All I have to do is type.  That's fine by me.  To be honest, I would be perfectly content if someone chose my clothes for me in he morning and told me what was for dinner every evening.

Freedom and choice are exhausting.  

So what do you say to that then?  I didn't have a clue that this was on the cards.  It's like a mini relaunch.  I have had a look at the other blogs and CatChat and Squire Richardson appear to be unaffected. 

How curious that a blog from the Fens should be illustrated with trees and hills, we are woefully deficient in both departments.  I had become rather attached to the low-fi look of this page but at least this new look is better than a photo of my ugly face.

I could let you in on a secret.  I didn't come up with the Longer View title.  I wanted a pun, my shortlist was Mouth of the Wash or Groan in Lincolnshire.  In the light of some of the recent puns, perhaps the latter was the more appropriate.

Bloomin Dragon's Den.

I'll tell you what.  I don't share the population's admiration of the "Dragons".  I hadn't heard of a single one of them before that programme started and I read the business press and everything.  They have gained all of their profile through the programme rather than business.   Most of the products "pitched" on the programme are only sucessful because they have received prime time publicity.

It demonstrates the power of the media; in Britain anything will succeed if it is given enough exposure.  Exhibit A, your honour, Jade Goody.  But the BBC is funded by taxpayers.  It is not supposed to advertise anything.  Pensioners have to save up to pay for this stuff (OK I don't know how much, I pay by DD.  I guess a licence is £130 is it?).  They should not have to contribute to the promotion of these turds. 

I love the BBC, but it will be lost if no one protects its integrity; this programme is hosted by a presenter of the flagship Today programme, for goodness sake.

No one agrees with me, of course, everyone seems to worship Duncan Bananatime and Theo Pahfaeces.  They will all be given knighthoods next for services to capitalism and cucumber caps.

The bit that really irks me is that none of theses so called entrepreneurs produces anything.  They have all amassed their fortunes in "service industry."  If they are shown a half-decent product they ask why it isn't being manufactured in the Far East by cheap staff.  They should be hate figures not heroes.

And don't get me started on Reggae Reggae sauce 

I'm thinking of getting a dog.  The urge has just come over me.

We always kept dogs throughout my childhood and my grandfather was a labrador breeder.  Although I like dogs, my overwhelming memory is of smelly cars, barking and dog mess.  Oh and things getting nagged to bits.  I always have to explore the negatives side of a proposition first.

It's very straight-forward without pets.  I haven't stood in a dog turd for years, although this may be the fact that I look where I'm going now.  In fact standing in dog poos was quite a eighties thing, you never hear as much about it these days. 

I also like to travel about in the winter and a pet can be a tie.  Our last pet at home was a peach-faced love bird called Keith.  He arrived in the garden in the early nineties.  Keith was quite remarkable - so remarkable that he once layed an egg.  Anyway even Keith proved too much.  Mum gave him away when me and my sister left home although I heard the other day that he's still alive. 

The other thing that I worry about with pets for single people is that they can become a substitute for human companionship.  (You already know how I hate people dressing animals up and pretending that they are human beings.)  I feel as though getting a pet would be an admission that I am incapable of sharing my life with anything less choosy than a dog (and dogs are notoriously unchoosy). 

Oh and my final "con" in the pros and cons, is that it is quite a long-term commitment.

So that's the why nots covered.  The why is simply "I want one."

So what sort of dog do you go for? 

Look.  I've just seen this in the Telegraph.  This is believed to be Britain's oldest joke.  It's Ango Saxon.

"What hangs at a man's thigh and wants to poke the hole that it's often poked before?' Answer: A key."

WHAT?  Am I reading this right?  Is the first recorded use of humour a knob gag?