Clara and Dennis? Sounds like the
landlord and lady at the Rovers Return! But boy, did they do some damage
between them, storming their way through UK. Not that we were there to witness
any of it, having got out just in time a few weeks ago. And just in time it
was, as our camper coughed its way from Scotland to France at 50mph and we
arrived about 10 minutes after our first pair of lambs were born. Call it
irresponsible if you like, but it was a failure of mechanics that caused it.
No, not the machine itself, but they who were supposedly repairing it, who were
about as reliable as our builders had been. Anyway, we are here now, and my
local mechanic in France is coming soon to scratch his head over the problem.
Having just had the turbo replaced, he'll probably say we need a new shu-shu
valve, or engine, or whole camper! If only I had listened when Tony Butcher
used to spanner our farm diesel engines when I was a teenager, instead of
racing round the farm tracks in the family Land-rover! He'd have it fixed in a jiffy!
Back to the subject of flooding,
I do have a theory and that is that Chris Packham is to blame! Yes, he of the
do-good, save-every-animal, BBC-warbling persuasion. You see, farmers who have
lived and worked the land near rivers and low ground will tell you that ditches
and main water-courses not only need dredging, but the banks need keeping clear
so the water can flow freely. Every tree that hangs into the moving water will
slow it down with eddy currents. See, I did listen in physics at school. So
basically, we need to clear the river banks so Dennis's rain-water can shift
itself quicker towards the sea. Except we can't do that because, as we all know,
rivers harbour a whole eco-system of wildlife, including voles, mice, rats, and
those lovely looking otters which would steal fish from your table faster than
my greedy cat. And, obviously, wildlife
is far more important than human endeavour, especially if you live in a city
and watch Countryfile every week, where the only flood you endure is the tears
of politicians. Good people of Tenbury,
if you are in the midst of building an Ark, never mind saving the animals
two-by-two, save the people first, except Packham and Kate Humble,
obviously.
Yesterday morning, a black cat
crossed the road just missing my wheels, and then I found a four-leaf-clover in
the sheep field. And last night a beautiful rainbow poked its glorious colours
into our other field. Today, with fingers crossed, I am hoping to get lucky,
because we have a plasterer starting work on our never-ending extension in Fife.
Anyone who has employed a plasterer will concur, those guys are harder to find
than plumbers, who, as it happens, are also at work in the same building. Our
massive window is now in place, and sealed against the next stupidly named
storm to arrive, although it was quite a Herculean effort to get it there,
using enough man-power to build a pyramid. The inner wall has been removed and,
although the house is un-inhabitable at present, the pictures look magnificent.
To you un-believing locals Fifers, I quote James Baldwin: 'Those who say it can't be
done are usually interrupted by others doing it!'
As I write, today is the
nineteenth anniversary of the first outbreak of Foot-and Mouth earlier this
century. There are many who will recall the sights and smells of dead animals
around the country at that time, and many more who would rather not. As a sheep
breeder, I had some pretty first-hand experience of the disease both in Cumbria
and nearer home when it hit in the middle of lambing. For days, the stench of
carcasses burning at Heightington drifted through Rock village and into our
sheep shed. Through a contact I got a daily slot on ITV's 'Good Morning Britain',
speaking on a web-cam from the farm about the management of the problem. The
patronising presenter was so desperate to see my tears when all our animals
were lined up to be shot, she was practically peeing herself. Thankfully our pedigree flocks did survive
the disease itself, but then we were imposed with a curfew for nearly a year
which negated us from moving or selling stock, something which added a massive
expense to us and many more. In discussion with a substantial network of
friends around the country back then, I pointed the finger of mishandling of
the situation, that let it spiral hopelessly out of control, directly at the
government. In the end, 6 million - yes SIX MILLION! - animals were
slaughtered, most of which could have been prevented, and the cost to the
country was estimated at eight billion pounds! I promised my father than one
day I would reveal the truth, as I saw it, about that time. I am quite pleased
to announce that my short book, entitled THE HOLE, a reference to the massive hole in Cumbria
that was dug to bury the dead, goes on sale this week on Amazon. It may get me
into hot water, but it certainly will tingle a few nerves.
Back to calmer times, I am
pleased to state that we have had eleven lambs this year from our six ewes and
that, miraculously, in her seventh lambing Daisy Death-wish has had twins for
the first time. With the daffs in full bloom and squadrons of cranes flying
overhead, I think spring has arrived a little too early this year in France.
Would it be provocative of me to predict that storm Emmanuel may arrive in
mid-summer to compensate?
