Will’s World: Why I choose farm show Romo over Fomo
© Lee Boswell Photography In my younger days, before I was utterly worn down by the herculean task of parenting numerous adolescent daughters while attempting to make a living from tenant farming, I’d regularly experience “fear of missing out”, or Fomo.
It was most prevalent back in the distant past when I was a member of my local Young Farmers’ Club, and for various farming-related reasons had to miss a night out or weekend event.
I’d sit on the tractor feeling desperately sorry for myself, knowing that my mates were having the time of their lives indulging in all sorts of wild shenanigans.
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At least we didn’t have phones in those days. It must be even worse to miss out while being bombarded with photos and videos of everyone else having a good time.
I can only imagine the kinds of things I’d have been gleefully sent by the gang of miscreants and renegades I misspent my youth with.
I don’t get that feeling now. At this stage of life, I only experience “relief of missing out”, or Romo. Does anyone else feel this?
Perhaps it’s just my introverted nature fully taking over. Or maybe it’s just that I can’t be bothered to get excited over things and would rather stay at home with a good book about the Second World War and a nice cup of Earl Grey.
Rasher decision
It’s in this spirit of middle-aged male grumpiness and social hermitry that I’ve decided not to attend either of the two big summer events in the farming calendar in England – Cereals and Groundswell – this year.
Before the cost of new tractors and machinery got so wildly out of kilter with farmgate prices, I used to enjoy going to kick a few tyres and bag some free hats at Cereals.
I could even put up with queuing for an hour and a half to get onto the site after a three-hour drive from North Wales, as long as there was the promise of a bacon butty once inside.
My enthusiasm for shiny new equipment has long since waned, and I just couldn’t face spending a busy day on my feet, dodging industry types in branded Schoffels and boat shoes who’re all trying to sell me something expensive that I don’t need.
I’m sure it was a fantastic day, though, and I hope everyone who went had fun. It’s not you, Cereals, it’s me.
Unicorn burgers
Groundswell is another matter. I’ve been an enthusiast since the days when it was just a few sandal-wearers and soil-botherers standing around a hemp gazebo in a Hertfordshire field.
I love the diversity of the people who attend, as well as the uber-positive festival vibe they curate so well.
But, over the past few years I’ve got bored with the same old, much-vaunted regenerative circuit speakers.
I can’t help feeling that some of them are well out of touch with the reality that most working people in this country are facing when it comes to buying food.
An organically produced rainbow-fed unicorn burger for £18 is all well and good if your daddy left you a 5,000-acre estate that you’re partially rewilding to let you bask in adoration from Guardian readers.
But for the rest of us who do our weekly shop in Aldi or Lidl to save what pennies we can, it all seems a bit ludicrous.
It’s not that I’ve completely fallen out of love with Groundswell, but we definitely need a break.
Anyway, I’m off to my favourite chair with a well-worn copy of Stalingrad, a fresh cuppa, and a renewed sense of Romo.
