Opinion: Farm visits make me view what we do in a new light
© Cath Morley Any farmer questioning their future and weighing up the pros and cons of continuing to knacker themselves out on a daily basis for nothing would be forgiven for throwing in the towel.
Reading one disastrous headline after another and listening to the chancellor deliver another depressing Budget for anyone who works hard or dares to own anything, I have again been questioning my career choice.
See also: Opinion – What if expansion or diversification aren’t options?
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Sometimes, though, it’s the unexpected which brings clarity and realisation that, despite the uncertainty we face, we are lucky to do this job, live where we do and be our own bosses.
I’ve recently had two very different groups visit the farm. The first were curates from the Diocese of Blackburn.
All were from urban backgrounds and they were keen to learn about the challenges faced by rural communities – ultimately, helping them to decide if life in a rural parish could be their calling.
As we ventured into the calf shed, there were smiles all round.
One enthusiastic lady asked: “Do you feel the same amount of absolute joy as I do, when you come in here every morning?”
Immediately I said no, and explained that it’s actually a sense of apprehension and dread rather than joy.
This is the truth; there’s nothing that saps the joy out of your heart more than a calf with a bad bout of scours.
After several more questions with similarly honest answers, I began to feel like I’d unloaded much of the burden I was carrying and we’d started an impromptu counselling session. Not a bad thing.
I hope the curates left with a sense of what is happening to our industry and that being a rural minister, while idyllic, is certainly not for the faint-hearted.
The second visit was a group of primary-age children from central Lancaster.
The job for the morning was planting hedge saplings.
Despite the sub-zero temperatures and their complete lack of suitable, warm clothing, they got stuck in and relished the opportunity to do something different.
Off the cuff remark
Among all the general chatter, it was one small, off-the-cuff remark that made me think about what living here means and how we take it for granted every day.
Walking back to the bus, one little boy stopped and pointed at the stone wall that surrounds our oil tank.
“Wow,” he said. “That’s bigger than my bedroom. I wish I could live here.”
That made me think a bit.
There’s lots of criticism, especially online, directed at people who don’t understand our situation, who haven’t sympathised with the complexities around inheritance tax or don’t have any grasp of rural issues.
But if these families are living in tiny houses, their kids sleeping in rooms no bigger than a cupboard, I can see why they might join the “pay your taxes” brigade and question why farmers should get special treatment.
From the outside looking in, we are rich and privileged. I know it doesn’t seem like that when you are actually living it.
But there’s no taking away from the fact that, to some, we have more than they can ever imagine.
I always enjoy having people on the farm – it’s fascinating finding out more about their lives and they are equally enthralled with everything I show them.
While I still question why I do this job every day, the answer is easier to find when I can see things from a different perspective.