Milk and Meat Merry Madness

Talking to a Dutch colleague of mine this week, he was getting finished helping with the CAP money decisions in The Hague and other stuff like that because he has a much more important job to do this weekend. He was off to help in his Father's butchers shop for the Christmas rush.

Working in a butchers shop in the days before Christmas is brilliant. It is second only to delivering milk on Christmas Eve. I did both for years and I loved every minute of it.

That's me on the left (from here by the way)

Delivering milk on Christmas Eve is a bit mad. You load up with a double lot of milk and a buckets of cream all noted down on order forms. I remember the land rover would move slowly, blinding every passing car because there was too much weight on the back end. It took ages, because nearly every conversation between my mate the milkman and us lads delivering milk before every customer went something like this:

"Down there, down the side of that terrace, put it under the bucket as normal. Now let's see, jesus where has that bloody form gone? She wrote it all down. It's like a bloody essay. Where's the damn form gone? IT WAS HERE A MINUTE AGO! Are you sat on it you big lump? Oh hang on, hang on, panic over, here it is. Right. Normal milk. That's 2 for today. 2 for tomorrow 'cos its a double day, that's 4. And 4 extra? 8 PINTS? There's only bloody two of 'em, and their Michael lives in Canada now with his new wife and they're off to her family this year, she told me last week. Anyway, bollocks, they're having it. I'm not taking this lot home. Milk, sorted. Sooooo, cream. 2 small doubles. Sorted. 1 big whippin' - grand, jesus we're short of them. 1 pint double. A PINT OF DOUBLE CREAM? She does this every bloody year, she'll be bollocking me next week for leaving too much."

 

And so it went on.

After delivering milk, I used to go into the local butchers then to help with the Christmas orders. People go mad at Christmas. They shop all year at a supermarket, then go all dewy-eyed at Christmas time and use the local butcher for everything. This isn't a problem of course, it is just a shame they don't do that all year round. 

My job was two fold. First, keep the queue happy. They would snake out of the door, past the garage joining the shop and sometimes be stretching round the corner to the Working Mens Club. You keep a Christmas butchers shop queue happy by bribing them with Christmas cake and mince pies. The butcher was always so cheerful and happy that people were in the shop and interested in them that he had long conversations with everyone. This didn't alter on Christmas Eve either, so it didn't matter whether people were spending 50 quid or a fiver, they all got the same attention. This meant there was a long queue, but of course, that is part of the charm.

 

Out of the door, in front of the garage, round the corner near the Working Mens Club (from here)

Second, you had to work through the logistical nightmare that was THE CHRISTMAS TURKEY ORDERS. Essentially, I realised that you never ever please everyone. There are only so many turkeys to go around, and you have to try and get it right. "Put all them big 'uns in one place. Good god, look at the size of this one, who is going to eat all that? Where's the little 'uns? Remember Barbara always wants a small one. If she moans she'll have to have a big chicken."

 

And the story that came out every year was the butcher, since retired, who had only one turkey left on Christmas Eve late on. It was completely and utterly the wrong size. The lady who came to collect it was particularly forthright, and when he went to collect it from the fridge she was horrified. "That really won't do, it really won't, you must have another one that's bigger" she said. The butcher went back to look in the empty fridge, shouted at a fictional person to 'BRING THAT BIGGER TURKEY FROM OVER THERE,' said a few words to the patron saint of happy customers and big turkeys and turned round back into the shop with exactly the same turkey he had presented before, this time with a beaming smile. 

"Lovely, that's better!" she said.  

 

And that is why delivering milk and working in a butchers at Christmas is brilliant. Even better, it hasn't changed either.

 

Eau dear

I met up with someone yesterday who works for a chemical company. We see each other periodically to put the world to rights and swap stories. This train of thought is entirely down to him but is worthy of attention. I haven't really thought about this before.

Here are a few things that are entirely normal about how we think about food:

- Consumers want to know where their food is coming from. 

- Consumers want to know where an animal was born, reared and slaughtered.

- Consumers want to know that the chemicals that are used in farming are safe.

- Consumers want to know when they buy beef lasagne it is beef lasagne.

- Consumers want to know that the animal they are eating was well looked after.

- Consumers want to know what farmers are doing with the taxpayers money they get.

- Consumers want to know about all of the above but they want it better and cheaper.  

- Consumers want to know they can have all this and a beautiful countryside. 

Here are a few things that in comparison are not normal about how I think about water:

- I live in Belgium, I have no idea where my water comes from. I didn't in England either.

- I don't know where my water started, what was done to it, or what it went through.

- I have no idea what chemicals are put into my water, and I don't think to ask.

- I presume that the water I drink is actually water, but it could be anything.

- I have no idea if the people giving me water look after it properly.

- I presume water companies sometimes get taxpayers money but I have never asked.

- I don't know if I want my water better and cheaper, I pay on direct debit and don't think.

- I don't link the countryside and water together when I am filling up a glass.

So I spend a lot of time getting hot and bothered about food and farming and environment and energy and politics and do you know I never ever think about water. I turn a tap on and presume that what comes out of it is what I think it is, that it is safe for me to drink, that getting it to me hasn't harmed the environment and that I can afford to buy it.

A strange thought isn't it? Is this because the water is always abundantly there and I don't have to go to a shop to get it? Do we need a shortage to make me appreciate it more? Why do I think about the coffee I drink, the vegetables I cook and the meat I eat but I don't think about the water to make the coffee, the water to cook the vegetables and the water the animal drank?

Reasons to be cheerful

Sometimes there are a few things that come our way all at once that make us unhappy. It is useful to remember though that somewhere hopefully there will be some nuggets of something positive. As this blog ACTUALLY deals with food and farming rather than general health and wellbeing here are some agricultural reasons to be cheerful:

1. General trend for pesticide use is down

See here 

2. Farmers are using less man made fertiliser 

 See here

3. Milk prices for hard pressed dairy farmers are looking rosier

See here 

4. Over time there has been increasing amounts of land in agri-environment schemes

See here

5. Also, Higher Level Stewardship shows a positive trend

See here

6. The trend for nasty stuff going in water is down down down

See here

7. Stupid people are tipping less crap in places they shouldn't be 

See here

Enjoy your day and remember that it is often helpful to think of the good things.

Shear Pleasure

Sometimes you just need some time away. I have just come back to Brussels from a week in Scotland. I spent the biggest chunk of the week shearing sheep with a good friend of mine who is a shearing contractor in Aberdeenshire.  

Shearing is a great leveller, and also binds people together. I first learnt when I was 16 after I took myself off to a course on a farm in Lancaster, and I am still friends with people from that time. I then tried and tried after that to get on to as many farms as possible. I hate driving machinery and I am also terrible at it, so my route to gain farm experience was through shearing. It worked.

You're either serious about shearing, or you leave the job to someone else. I love it. It is sweaty, hard work and most farmers are more than happy to call it a spectator sport, roll wool and make cups of tea instead. Shearing for me is a way to think about nothing in particular for a while - I am too busy concentrating on holding the sheep, making a good job and gently perspiring in the agricultural equivalent of running a marathon in a sauna. 

I was hotter than the actual sun for most of the week

I have done a fair bit of thinking since. Re-wind. I read this before I went away. I read this often. And this. I went to a meeting in Brussels on sustainable agriculture where the platform was dominated by an anti-pesticide campaigner with no room for moderate debate. I get into Twitter debates about animal welfare. I went to the Natural History Museum in London recently and saw their wildly outdated depiction of modern agriculture. Then yesterday I read this.

You know what? I don't recognise this as the farming industry I have just been practically involved in for the past week. I didn't see millionaire subsidy junkies; I saw farmers building their businesses on what of late has been little return. I didn't see huge faceless agribusiness operating; I saw family farms working hard to make sure their farm was in a better state for the future. I didn't see a barren decimated landscape; I saw rolling productive countryside and farmers bursting with pride in the sunshine. I was bursting with pride myself.

And here I am back in Brussels. I can still feel a twinge in the bottom of my back, and I know that this week away has done me some good. I am reminded why I do what I do. Next year when I go shearing, I think I'll invite George, Mark and Philip. We could get a holiday cottage together. I could take them to meet some farmers I know. I could teach them to shear sheep if they fancied it. 

Wouldn't we have a lovely time in the countryside together?  

Thoughts on the State of Nature

All over the news this morning is the 'State of Nature' report that has been developed by a coalition of 25 environment NGO's.

You can read all about the report here, and I think there is a launch event with David Attenborough today. Take a read of the full report here. It talks about two-thirds of species being in decline. I need to read the report in full (it is pretty lengthy) and my initial thought process is from the headlines in the press. 

 

The Today programme has led with the report this morning, and it was noted that 'the culprits are the usual subjects - intensification of agriculture and urban sprawl. Business as usual is not acceptable.'

I think it is pretty obvious that business as usual is not acceptable, but I am not sure that 'the usual culprits' in the form of the intensification of farming tells the whole story. It looks to me like farming has been doing anything but intensifying in the past few years.

It seems to me that there has been a huge amount of work done by farmers who have realised that business as usual (and by this we presume the report means very intensive agriculture with negative environmental impacts) is not the way to operate.

I thought I would take a look at few graphs dotted around because it is easier for me to see things in a picture.

 

This is what fertiliser use looks like at the moment:

This is from here - take a look

This is what water quality in rivers looks like:


You can see this here on page 22 

This is how much we spend on biodiversity (which has dropped recently, presumably with government cutbacks):



Take a look at this here on page 42

This is what the Farmland Bird Index looks like - used as a wider barometer of the health of the countryside:



You can see this here as well, on page 61

On these figures farmland birds continue to decline, but at a much lower rate than over the past 40 years. Yes, there is much work to do. I hope however that the report takes account of all of the work that farmers are doing highlighted in the graphs above, and the record numbers of those in agri-enviornment schemes. It will be interesting to see what the effect of the crazy weather we have had of late has on the environment in the future as well. There is much to discuss.

 

Perhaps the most interesting underlying graph in all of this is the one related to how much the UK spends on biodiversity. We are in the final stages of CAP reform, and it is clear that the relationship between pillar 1 payments direct to farmers and pillar 2 payments for rural development and the environment will be even sharper in focus very shortly. The 'State of Nature' report is a line in the sand in this debate, hence the attention it has received so far.

 

Review: ‘I Bought a Mountain’ by Thomas Firbank

If I was a lecturer at an agricultural college, this book would be top of the reading list. I’d tell the students that there was no need to lug the Agricultural Notebook in, that John Nix can stay at home this week and please don’t bring anything to write with. Just read this, I’d say: Thomas Firbank’s ‘I Bought a Mountain.’

Rewind first. My uncle was a shepherd on a hill farm. By virtue of some fall out I’m unclear on coupled with a character who was happier with a dog and stick than with family, I didn’t meet my uncle until my mother’s 40th birthday party when I was 10. He invited me to go to the farm where he worked. I remember the fire and the branding iron to stamp the horn of the sheep. I remember the smell, the smell that gets on your chest. He must have seen my face.

‘It gets yer! It’s n’wonder these farriers can drink.’

I remember gathering sheep with him and Michael Harness. He cast out one way, a dot in the distance, and we the other way to meet back on the old A640 road connecting Yorkshire and Lancashire. The snow started falling, the sheep licked the salt from the road, the cars blared their horns. We bunkered down for a bit of dinner under a small bridge. 

‘Here lad, sup this. Bloody cars blaring. These sheep were here ‘afore them.’ 

Fast forward. I deliver milk before school with another farmer, and I learn to shear with him as well, and then on one day the uncle gives me a chance in shearing some of their sheep. Then I go to agricultural college, and at the end of my first year on a lovely June evening I get a call from home. He has died. He collapsed in the big shed at the farm and Michael found him.

And that’s it then. You can’t learn anything from someone who isn’t around any more. And all you ever wanted was to know him. To understand him and be friends with him perhaps, to be part of it. But you never were. The only thing that’s there now is a crook he gave you behind the door, and a tightening of the chest sometimes when you think back. That is all that can be said for that.

Back to the book. I’d tell the students to come prepared to drink tea and talk all about how wonderful the book is, how even almost 75 years after it was first published there is something very relevant in here for anyone who cares to get into it. “The man who can strike a mean is the man who makes a dull success of what he undertakes,’ says Firbank “yet the ordinary people who move with the ungoverned swings of the pendulum live foolishly and fully. My pendulum was at the extremity of its arc when I came to Dyffryn.” 

You may manage to buy a copy here 

He had worked in Canada in the ‘30’s and heard about a hill farm for sale near Snowdon. He starts his story with the purchase - “I first saw Dyffryn in a November gale. As I rounded a spur of a hill to turn into the long valley the full power of the storm caught the car. The rain was being driven horizontally, and struck on the windscreen. It poured in torrents over the bonnet, but left me dry. I liked that weather.” Firbank, with no farming experience at all, buys “a sheep farm of 2400 acres, lying in a long rectangle with its upper boundary some 3300 feet up and its lower boundary the flooding river parallel with the road. A good house, 2 cottages, plenty of farm buildings and the price was £5000.”

The book takes you through the farming year, and if it was just that would probably only be of interest to hardened agriculturalists. It is much more than that, because Firbank is so honest and writes with such passion that you are likely to get through a big chunk of it in one sitting. He learns after some time that he must just work very hard, but that everyone will help him if only he asks them. “As the excitements of the life flooded my consciousness, so that I worked and worried and ask questions from daybreak till dark, the hillmen, my neighbours, sensed at once the change of heart and admitted me more and more to their circle.”  

I like the book because the focus is on shepherding through the year - and if you consider hill farming, there isn’t a tremendous amount that has changed in practice. On lambing time he notes that “we have been privileged, for the gods have performed before us the great play of life. We feel we have assisted at a miracle. And, of course, we have.” You hear further about shearing, preparing for the annual sale and buying rams from Firbank who seems in control of the operation, but with some sense of philosophical detachment from the process at the same time. That is probably why the book works so well. 

My copy has been around a while

I could go on and on about this book. For me reading it again recently, I am surprised by the parallels between farming then and farming today. One chapter talks about the big snow of 1937, where they dug sheep out of snow drifts and pulled their last one out on day 21. “The more we mortals build,” says Firbank, “the more there is for the fates to destroy.” Looking at the year that hill farms have had this year, I think the experience that Firbank had at Dyffryn all those years ago would resonate with many sheep farmers today.

A lovely thread throughout the book which almost underpins it, is the relationship that Firbank has with his wife Esme who joins him at Dyffryn a short time after the purchase. “The gods thought fit for me to meet Esme” he says. “In early spring when the grass was a-rustle with growth, and the trees gave budding promise, and the birds and the beasts preened and stretched in the luxury of the sun, Esme came back with me to Dyffryn.” Esme is the driving force behind a lot of ideas, and it is clear that there is no way that Firbank could have done it without her. The story of Esme is probably another book in itself, and if you read this you will see from a quick internet search that the story of ‘I Bought a Mountain’ most certainly didn’t stop with the publication of the book. I will leave that chapter for you to discover yourself.

The debates we are having in agriculture now, especially in relation to hill farming, could be pulled directly from this book. The weather I have already covered, but Firbank plays with diversifying his income with varying degrees of success through pigs, poultry and a cafe for tourists. He  sets up a hydro-electric system to power the farm (renewable energy to cut costs? Interesting!) talks about the need to produce more food from the hills (this sounds familiar) to invest in agriculture as the basis for economic growth in the rest of the country (I have heard this before somewhere) and of the need for more people to work in agriculture and that the future is bright (hang on, what year are we in?). 

Whilst we must remember this was written at the beginning of the war and at a bleak time in the country, Firbank finishes by noting that “men are loath just now to return to the land. The life is hard, the wage small, and the instinct of husbandry is dead in them. But man was born of husbandry, and he may again turn to his only sure help, the soil. He will readjust his values, and may taste in the end the ultimate joy of tending Nature in her labour.”  

Everything changes, yet everything stays the same. 

Review: 'Waste - Uncovering the Global Food Scandal' by Tristram Stuart

I always read the inside cover of books first before I take a read. In the cover of ‘Waste- Uncovering the Global Food Scandal’ we learn that Tristram Stuart ‘has been a freelance writer for Indian newspapers, a project manager in Kosovo and a prominent critic of the food industry. He lives in the UK and rears pigs, chickens and bees.’

It was the last bit that did me. I said a naughty word under my breath and made an assumption, like many of us do on first impressions, that Mr Stuart was probably the type of chap with floppy hair who ate organic muesli on a morning. He would probably make frankly absurd statements about the future of farming and the food industry. I was wrong.

Organic muesli aside (he probably does, I have since met him and he is a nice bloke), there is no doubt that this book is an impressive work. More PhD thesis than airport holiday read - the notes and bibliography cover well over 100 pages themselves - the author covers the globe looking at all aspects of the food chain from farmers through processors to retailers and to us, the consumers. With constructive criticism for everyone throughout, Stuart does at least provide thoughts on ways that the food waste issue can be sorted out. “Don’t bring me problems!” a food industry manager might say, “I want solutions!” In ‘Waste’ Stuart gives a everyone a fair run for their money.  

He also is a master of illustrating the problem in handy figures, often citing work done by WRAP, the Waste Resources Action Programme in the UK. According to WRAP research, in the UK we throw away 4.1m tonnes of food every year that could have been eaten. That is ‘484 million unopened pots of yoghurt, 1.6 billion untouched apples (27 apples per person) and 2.6 billion slices of bread.’ I am sure somewhere there will be an analogy putting all of this horrendous waste in the weary context of double decker buses end to end/football fields/number of times around the world/here to the moon etc but if it is in this book I have missed it. The figures themselves are stark enough to make you sit up and think.

Read about the author here 

He certainly doesn’t hold back on his views on meat and dairy production mind, which could make some farming folk wince. He notes that ‘if we ate less meat and dairy products, there would be more food to go around’ and does a global gallop through the reality of how much meat different nations eat - from the Americans at 123kg per person per year, to the UK at 83kg, the Chinese 55kg, the Ugandans 10kg and the Indians 5kg.  Apparently the combined weight of cattle on the earth now exceeds that of humans (aha, found it!) and meat production has multiplied by two and half times since 1970. 

Reflecting on my own travels in India last year, where restaurants were tentatively putting ‘non-veg‘ options on the menu; it is clear that as Stuart points out ‘when developing-world countries get richer, their populations are inexorably adopting the meatier, milkier diet of affluent countries.’ The author’s gripe here is that the consumption patterns of the West should not be a blueprint for the East. He argues that us wasteful westerners should get our own house in order. Food waste and feeding grain to livestock are on the same page for Tristram Stuart.

Of most personal interest to me and in my work in Brussels, is the focus on the part that supermarkets play in all of this. Sparse shelves are a big turn off for consumers; they think they have missed the best and as a result the systems of big retailers and food outlets intentionally over order. This means of course that there is a lot of waste. Coupled with examples of some of the well known practices of unfair trading in the food supply chain, Stuart argues that better and more honest relations between consumers, retailers and farmers would go a long way to solving the food waste headache. I don't think there is much to argue with there.   

It's unlikely I'll ever look at the food in our fridge in the same way again, and if you read this book it is likely to have a similar effect. The central premise of the book is that the perceived future for the food and farming industry - to produce more more more quick quick quick - is incorrect, and that it would be far more advantageous to get better at eating what it is we are already producing. This is a serious book on a serious subject, and most definitely worth a read. Published in 2009 (I am relatively late to the party) some would say it came out a little before its time. Looking at current discussions at European level, the plethora of reports on food waste and the rise of food banks, it seems the time for getting on top of this issue has finally arrived. 

You can follow the progress of Tristram Stuart via his campaigning website http://www.feeding5k.org 

It's Jam Tomorrow

Agriculture is one industry where we are always thinking about the future. 

Politicians do it all the time, looking how policy can best fit some of the challenges which are coming down the tracks. Commentators do it a lot at conferences, building confidence in their farmer audience by pointing to the world of opportunity that awaits them next year...by 2020...by 2050. The farmers, the most important people, sit and scratch their heads and wonder when things will happen today, tomorrow or next week. 

When I did an MSc at Newcastle in 2007, we did a bit of thinking about the future as well. The best bit about it was one module on 'risk' in rural areas. This largely involved sitting around drinking coffee and being pretentious and pretending that we knew everything. After we had done that bit though, we had to fast forward 10 years from that date and think about what rural areas would look like. What would be the risks? What issues would have been dealt with and how would they have changed?

We had to mock up a newspaper article and pretend that we were in 2017. I have just found it on the computer when I was looking for something else.

Of course it is ridiculous, it is meant to be to spark debate. Hopefully it is quite good fun. Take a look below (with my sincere apologies to the Guardian newspaper)

Farming and the Bank of Dave

I am a sucker for stories about chipper Northerners railing against the system, and the 'Bank of Dave' is probably one of the best. It is a true story, is a Channel 4 documentary and you can watch it yourself here. A brief summary:

• Meet Dave Fishwick, Burnley bred millionaire owner of successful minibus company.
• Sez Dave, The Banks are Bastards, they aren't lending to small businesses, Burnley is dying, there are no returns on savings and yet still banks are paying huge bonuses and we as taxpayers are bailing them out. We need a better bank. Let's do it.
• Dave sets up his own bank. They have a website here.
• Er, that's it.

Before I go on, here is Dave just so you know where we are firing:

Please note the clocks - New York and Burnley (obviously)

Of course, it isn't all plain sailing. Dave is told by everyone that it simply isn't possible, that he would need to meet with the FSA to get a banking licence (he tries, and is still waiting) and that the plan would never work. What follows is the most heart warming and life affirming documentary I have seen in a long while. Now open and operating is Burnley Savings and Loans Ltd, paying 5% interest to savers, providing small unsecured loans to local people and businesses and turning a small profit after all overheads which is donated to local charities. I could bang on further, but just watch it. 

What though, has this got to do with farming? This idea, I think, has got everything to do with farming.

Attracting young people, or shall we say 'new entrants' instead, seems to be the perennial problem in agriculture. Far too many column inches have been filled with this topic, including a fair amount of musing from me. I think it is all getting a bit boring. The problem is not a lack of people who are interested, it is a lack of opportunity.

Aside from the problem of actually getting a new entrant onto their own farm is surely access to capital. Not access to capital to buy a farm, land, or big machinery but getting hold of a bit of cash when you have no money to start with, when you have no assets and when you probably have a significant student loan. You do not have any financial support in terms of single farm payments because this is connected to land ownership and that's the problem, you do not own any land but really really want to. The only thing you do have is a hard working attitude and bucket-loads of enthusiasm. Where does a new entrant go? I think he should go to the Bank of Dave, or even better, something very similar set up by farmers, for farmers to help guarantee the future of the industry in the UK.

It would work like this. Established farmers who have assets and cash (because come on, there is money around it just isn't always easily accessible) would invest in a fund set up and managed by a group of forward thinking farmers. This would pay a reasonable amount of interest, perhaps 5%, and would then loan out this money to new entrants. There would be no age limit on applicants (who says a new entrant has to be young?) but they would have to have a business plan like any other application for borrowing money. They would be visited by a successful farmer who would talk about their idea, share some of their experience and make a decision on that basis. The new entrant could get a loan for anything that helped them on their way, or took their business to the next level. Any profits in the bank after operating costs would be given to farming charities. Paperwork would be kept to a minimum, the focus would be on the relationship between the investors and the borrowers and it would be run by farmers, for farmers without any unnecessary interference.  

In terms of financing it, it should be seen as a good business deal anyway, but it could be advertised on the basis that (ooof, controversial) farmers have started to tip up 1% of their single farm payments to invest (there is a return remember) in the future of the industry. Back-of-fag-packet figures would show that with a very rough single farm payment income of £3.3bn per year into the UK, a 1% slush fund set up by farmers (by them alone, not mandatory, not by government, just on a voluntary basis) would start off with £33m to lend out if everyone got on board. Would a farmer receiving £10k in SFP invest £100? Could a farmer who receives £1m in SFP be prepared to invest £10k?

A runner? Or shall I get back off my soapbox? Maybe it's something to float here.

Farming on a Friday

'In the early evening light a farmer walks in furrows of soil after a day
of planting potatoes on his land at Strbe in north-eastern Slovakia