“THERE’S A BRAVE NEW WORLD OUT THERE”

In January 1981, the House of Lords debated The Sheep Variable Premium Order. This was a deficiencies payment designed to protect and support UK prime sheep producers by giving a guarantee price for lambs sold at the right grade.

Lord Peart of Workington said, “I take the view that this is a good bargain… It will give tremendous help to the farming community, who deserve it… some of our townspeople forget that the production of food on the hills and uplands is really a very hard job”. Earl Ferrers was in complete agreement replying, “life on the hills is a very difficult life, particularly for sheep farmers”.

The Bill passed and for many years farmers could rely on a weekly “make- up” payment. On a rising market, this was a winner. In practice at grassroots level, the young auctioneer at Lazonby, diligently chalked up the guaranteed top up payments on a blackboard, each Thursday morning so that vendors could work out the bottom line.

If he was lucky the young auctioneer got a turn in the rostrum, which was actually a tiny little wooden hut adjacent to the main office. A narrow ledge separated the auctioneer from the sale ring. it was just wide enough on which to balance the auctioneer’s book, recording vendor, number, weight, price and buyer, any of which might be referred to in case of dispute.

Decades of gavel abuse had left the surface of the ledge battered and worn. If the young auctioneer was not so lucky to sell, then the morning was spent weighing sheep on the old dialled scale, then writing the weights on a chalkboard for the boss, Norman Little, to read out to buyers.

Woe- betide the young auctioneer should he not get the blackboard washed off and turned around by the time the next lot of sheep had left the weighbridge and moved in to the ring. After selling their sheep, vendors could be seen staring at the variable premium rates, working out what the sheep would come to with the make- up payment added. Sometimes a scowl, sometimes a nod, rarely a smile, for that would never do!

Mid- winter would see frozen breath and frozen fingers, but the sale could not stop. A huge gas heater stood at the side of the ring, to enable the buyers to warm their cold wet fingers in between, touching the lambs backs. The heat did not percolate to either the auctioneer or the weigher! Lazonby Auction could be a bitterly cold place in mid- winter!

At the back of the weighbridge, worked the Meat and Livestock Commission grader. Their job was to assess the condition of the lambs individually, to ensure that they were of the right quality and level of finish, not too fat and not too thin. Graded lambs received a yellow mark meaning entitled to premium payment. Reject lambs were marked differently and were not entitled to the extra payment.

The system was further complicated by the fact that the grader also had to assess the final kill out percentage of the lamb, in other words, the amount of meat as a ratio of the total carcase weight. For the purposes of premium payment the grader would instruct the person weighing sheep to deduct an amount from the full lamb weight. Best quality lambs might only have half a kilo deducted, or less on rare occasions. Plainer quality lambs although eligible for premium, might have 2kg or even more removed. This obviously affected the bottom line for the farmer

A good grader would work well with the sheep weigher and series of finger signals would indicate the amount of weight to knock off. Farmers would try all ways to influence the grader if they disagreed with the grade or the weight deduction. Graders would never ever change their mind! Some farmers shouted, others pleaded,

“Nay nay, Jacko, hev another touch, tha’s missed it”. Or;                                                  “Haway Cloggy man, yer’ve been far ower harsh wid us”

Generally the graders were known and respected by farmers but some like old Roy Cannon from Cockermouth rather enjoyed the banter with farmers who argued with him: –

“Two off these Adam Lad”                                                                                                            “Hell Roy, you’re bloody joking! my lambs aren’t that bad”                                                        “Adam, make that two and half kilo’s off”

The young auctioneer at the start of his career had a little card at his side on the rostrum, with Penrith Auction prices  written down for different breeds and weights – as a guide. Lazonby and Penrith were run by the same company; Penrith Farmers & Kidds, but there was always competition! Norman Little would always insist that Lazonby prices should at least match and probably better Penrith prices on the monday. In those days, long before mobile phones, prices rarely moved much throughout the week, never mind the day.

Just about every one of those Lazonby buyers are now retired or have passed away, to be replaced by others for that is the circle of life, and the circle of auctions. 

Now less than 40 years on from that House of Lords debate, few politicians talk of farmers in the same revered tones. Life for hill farmers has not got any easier in many respects. It can still be lonely and perhaps even more stressful than all those years ago. For many farmers, a trip to market was the only chance to get away from the farm. Nowadays few farmers have time to stop, chat, network and relax.

Also, In real terms the lambs are cheaper, the cost of production far higher and the profit, often far less. Although 98% of households still eat red meat, and 99% purchase dairy products, we’ve lost our connect with the public and dare I say with government.

In future our industry is going to change. Public goods may be the order of the day, but we must still fight to promote the value of food production. There will be challenges but also opportunities. There won’t be any “makeup” schemes, but there will be public money to spend on the farm. The trick will be to maximise payments whilst retaining the viability and profitability of the farm business. I am pleased to say that the Farmer Network is well placed to support its members during the transition.

I am also convinced that over the years the demand for home grown food will rise, as will the public’s desire for a greener world, cleaner air, water and more wildlife. On the back of that, farmers will be able to invest more in healthier soils, greenhouse gas mitigation, innovative production methods and more.

Much as the young auctioneer (now rather older!) looks back on those Lazonby sale days with fondness, we’ve moved on. At least there are still many young auctioneers now learning the ropes in the modern era and deserving support. They may still have a strong role to play in the future.

We can’t change the rules, but we can make them work for us. One day soon, our customers will wake up and realise, just how important farmers are both to food production and to the environment. There is a brave new world out there to be had. We just have to embrace it and dare i say fight our corner. Lord Peart was right. Supporting the farming community in future, will still be “a good bargain”.

Your local farmer is your friend, not your problem!

Decades ago, my Cumbrian farming grandmother would prepare for long winters by filling her ample chest freezer with home produced lamb, half a pig, and a few large beef joints. The freezer was like the Tardis in that it seemed much bigger on the inside! It also contained racks of frozen vegetables from the allotment and pies with fruit picked from the hedgerows. The blackberry pies were the best, especially on Easter Sunday! Anything bought fresh from the shops was only what was in season at the time. 
In the modern world, we now expect by right to have cheap food delivered fresh from across the world. We care little about the people producing the food and even less about the provenance, the traceability and true cost of production.
We don’t actually perceive food to be cheap, because we know nothing else. We have forgotten the true age of austerity, ration books and queuing for food, in an age when no food could be wasted. Grandmother would have baulked at the idea of throwing out perfectly good consumables. Sell by dates meant nothing to our forefathers.
Today 4 pints of whole milk can be bought in most supermarkets today for about 1.10p. Many dairy farmers will be paid less than  half of that. The product is sold for a pittance and farmers are paid a pittance. Bottles of water are sold at higher prices! How can this be? And how would we manage today if more than 30% of our weekly wage had to be spent on basic food items? This is how it was in the 1950’s.
Because food is so cheap today,  very few people outside the agriculture industry have any inkling of the systems, processes, regulations and hard work that goes into producing a pint of milk or a prime lamb. As a population, we have lost knowledge and respect for the farming industry. We don’t understand and we don’t appreciate where our food comes from, and how it is produced. The constant supply of globally  produced cheap food means that UK farmers are any easy target on climate change issues, pollution, animal welfare and just about the ills of the world. This is a  seriously misguided blame game.
In the 1950’s UK farmers were truly the housewives friend. Government policies encouraged production at all costs. The nation was hungry and in post- war crisis. These days the government will not support home food production. In fact they barely recognise it. It’s a curious thing but many members of the public believe farmers get free handouts in the form of production subsidies. The reality is that those days are long gone.  Current support payments are based on environment and conservation outputs only. The UK farmer is always at the mercy of a painfully thin market. There are no fall back measures. If the beef price drops even lower, the beef farmer has to take it on the chin. It’s the same in every sector.
So where will the food to feed the British people come from in future? The answer if we continue as we are, is an even greater reliance on imports. Frankly it is the road to disaster. Worse still it is morally and ethically challengeable. 
My heartfelt belief is that we need to grow our own food and look after our environment at the same time. These are not separate portfolio’s. This work goes together. Too many people with vested interests seek to promulgate the polarisation of farming, food production and conservation. As a nation we are now less than 60% self sufficient in food and it continues to fall by more than 1% per annum. This troubles me greatly. Sure, we are ok now. Lots of food to bring in from all over the world! But where will we be in 20 years time if this trend continues? only 40% self sufficient? desperate to secure even more food from around the world for a growing population? it is madness. We have a 25 year environment plan, but no food and farming plan. This should be one and the same.
Instead we shove it under the carpet as we focus on “saving the planet”. Of course we need to do this urgently but we also need to focus on sustainable food production to feed the human race. We cannot continue a growing trend of importing out of season, cheap food products. If we do and this is more important than supporting UK food production, then we are simply exporting our problem, sweeping it under the carpet in the name of environment and conservation. Many of us will have seen the BBC programme on global meat production this week. I believe many of the findings in that programme actually back up much of what i have discussed earlier. This is a global issue but cannot be blamed on the UK farming community. We’ve been hung out to dry by those who support and promote cheap imported food and we know fine well who they are!
Take a look at the photo above. This is how fruit and vegetables are grown in parts of Spain, much of it destined for the UK market. It is grown this way using the cheapest labour that can be found, people often working in shocking conditions. There have been tv programmes about this recently. Think of the carbon footprint and the use of plastics yet we choose to ignore it. Sweep it under the carpet- again. Cheap food for the masses, stocking the supermarket shelves! “cheap food is our right. We are entitled to it”!
Cheap food is ours by right! That’s one hell of statement, but it must be true because clearly supermarkets support this policy (just as long as their margins are maintained). Clearly the UK government supports this policy wholeheartedly. Cheap food means we have more disposable income to spend on other consumer goods and this keeps the public happy. It’s a measure of economic success to have a tv in every room and be able to eat out several times a week in fast food restaurants or via the take- away. The grim reality is that food is too cheap and we don’t deserve it by right. The grim reality is that global food systems are ensuring the planet is paying a high price, to keep food prices low. The system is broken and most of us don’t even know it. Or if we do, we lift that carpet yet again. We readily accept these global food systems whilst ignoring our own UK sustainable farming systems. We’re even allowing some sections of society to blame UK farmers for the global food production mess!
I steadfastly believe that we have to change our ways. We desperately need to invest more in home- grown food production. As a result and as a condition of this, we need to achieve better environmental goals in offering the public benefits in clean air, clean water and conservation in the natural environment. To do this our farm businesses need to viable and sustainable. The farm business is the key to all this. The government does not recognise food as a public good. Absolute madness and they are missing a huge trick.
Our mentality has to change. Food needs to be priced fairly to respect the producer and the way in which in which our food is grown. We need to return to seasonal purchasing instead of importing goods from across the world. What is the true cost of this in terms of food miles and carbon footprint? no one is saying and we’re sweeping under the carpet yet again in order to protect a 52 week food supply season. It’s easier to criticise our own farmers rather than admit the true cost of food importation.
We must invest in local markets, in other words locally produced food purchased by local people. We must reduce food waste, Millions of tonnes of the stuff, binned each year. Why does this happen? Again because its cheap and not respected and therefore neither is the producer. In fact almost 2 million tonnes of food is wasted in the UK annually of which 240,000 tonnes is binned by supermarkets alone. Ask yourself why this is allowed to happen?
With education and investment we can do much better. Feed our nation more sensibly than we do now. Make the best of our natural assets to grow more food, not less! and at the same time be proud to improve our natural environment.
it’s time to big up the UK farmer, one of the best assets we have. Once again in the future the farmer will become our best friend. Start the planning now and let’s do this on our terms rather than in desperation some years down the line when we run out food and run out of ideas.
This will mean huge changes to the farming industry, new skills to learn, new technology to embrace as we seek to grow more food using less inputs. Our future farmers will be skilled food producers but they will also be upskilled conservationists. And if they are, then they must be rewarded for it. Farmers already offer a huge range of benefits to their communities and the wider public, but we’ve lost the knowledge and understanding of this, again through cheap food and a lack of education about food and farming.
We can get it back but we have to act now to protect our home- production and in doing so our natural environment. Food, farming and conservation go together side by side and it is so easy. We need a Rural Grand Plan to encompass all of this.
But don’t just take my word for it. In 2017 the U.N. Food and Agriculture Organisation (FAO) issued a stark warning in a report entitled “The Future of Food and Agriculture: Trends and Challenges.” The message was this: –
Because of a growing global population (7.3b today rising to 10b by 2050), agricultural output will need to increase by 50 percent. This needs to happen alongside the necessary steps to mitigate climate change.
This is perhaps more evidence that farming, food and conservation go together. People are now understanding the significance of climate change. Why the hell aren’t we talking about sustainable food production? All of the good conservation work will be destroyed if we start to go hungry. The bad conservation work needs to be called out for what it is. Time to end the polarisation! Bring it together….. “A Rural Grand Plan”.
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Grandmothers roast lamb dinners followed by homemade blackberry pie will never be surpassed. it’s time to re-discover her old fashioned values from a time when food was so much more important than it is now. My grandparents in their own little way were proud farmers, feeding the nation. That pride remains today within the farming industry especially among young people who are desperately keen to farm. We’re in danger of losing this in the next generation unless we start respecting, appreciating and supporting them. We’re in danger of losing far more if we continue to import cheap food from abroad, without any consideration of those production systems. You have been warned!
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BEST DOG I EVER HAD!

Sometimes it is hard to get the general public to understand the relationships that farmers have with their animals.

I was 8 years old. It was mid-summer and I was doing what I loved best, working with Grandad amongst his sheep.  We went to gather his furthest field, next to a main road.  Accompanying us was Grandad’s pride and joy, his sheep dog Laddie.

On command away went Laddie tearing down the field on a wide outrun.  The sheep were ewes with strong lambs at foot, ready for weaning.  As Laddie gathered them, a lamb broke away running full tilt into the hedge at the bottom of the field.  In an instant Laddie was through the hedge and on to the road to turn the lamb back.  A car was approaching at speed and the inevitable happened.

I didn’t see Laddie get hit by the car but remember vividly the screech of brakes and the bump.  I also remember Grandad’s words, “oh no, me dog’s dead”.  Then he was shouting at me to stop where I was, but I was over the field gate in a flash, running down the road to where Laddie lay.  Grandad came scuttling along as fast as his old bowed legs would carry him.

“He’s alright Grandad, look his tails still wagging”!  It was nothing but the last vestiges of nervous energy leaving his body.  Grandad had to explain that he really was dead.  Then he told me to run back home and tell grandmother what had happened.  Away I went half running, half walking as I choked back tears.  Later that day we drove down the road where poor Laddie had been killed.  All I could see was a pile of sand.

Sometimes it is hard to get the general public to understand the relationships that farmers have with their animals.  The perception is often that farm businesses are like factory units.  Joe Public doesn’t get that despite the fact that farm animals are working animals, very often there are relationships and bonds.  I came across some stark examples of this in the dark days of 2001 when foot and mouth disease tore farmers from their flocks and herds. From the pulsating throb of a vibrant dairy parlour to empty silence in a few hours. A field full of sheep one minute, to an empty field of nothing but grass. For many farmers this was so hard, as bad or even worse than a family bereavement.

Many times in my career as an auctioneer I have unloaded trailers as farmers bring cast cows to market.  If I’d had a £1 for every time a farmer has said “this is a sad day”, I could probably do a better job of keeping the Mrs in the manner to which she is accustomed!

Programmes like “This Farming Life” do sometimes show the bond between the farmer and his stock as well as the skill and total commitment of so many in our farming community.  Frankly we could do far more of this to educate the public.  The government may not recognise food production as a public benefit, but through the media and meeting the public face to face, this is a message we absolutely must get across in future.

Grandad bought a new sheep dog, but it was never the same.  Laddie was irreplaceable.  Long in to his dotage, grandad would sit in his chair by the fire.  There would be a little gulping cough and a sigh, followed by, “Best dog I ever had”……

IS IT TIME TO MEND SOME FENCES?

During the summer of 1984, part of my pre- college year was spent working for Dick Clark at Mosser Mains farm, near Cockermouth. One sunny afternoon Dick and I went to his land in the village of Pardshaw Hall. On this very site in 1650, George Fox the founder of the Quaker movement preached the word to thousands of onlookers. Now Dick was going to preach the word to me on how to “brae” posts in!

The old post and wire fence had been removed and in its place, Dick and I were going to hammer in brand new fence posts. Dick told me that I was to learn the proper way. He carefully positioned the post and instructed me to hold it firmly. Then he spat on both hands and took the mell hammer in a wide arc above his head bringing it firmly down on the top of the post. He repeated the movement a number of times, each one expertly hitting the post flush on the top. His swing was as attuned and rhythmic as a professional golfer!

After several more blows Dick handed the mell to me. From a height of about six inches I began to tap away on the top of the post. It didn’t take long before Dick shouted up. “Were you not watching? Get that bloody hammer back over your head and hit it properly”. So I did just as told. My first blow hit the post perfectly and it sank 3 inches on to the ground. The second wobbled a bit on the top, and my third mighty smote ran Dick’s fingers right down the post.

He went purple and I expected him to blow. But all he said through gritted teeth was “You…….” Then with hardly a grimace he placed his hands back on the post. The message was clear. He wasn’t giving in and neither was I. Soon the post was solid in the ground and we moved on to the next. By the end of the afternoon I was exhausted but there were several posts in place, all straight and true and I had mastered the required technique. Another lesson was learned that day, you don’t give in. You just keep trying until you get it right.

The fencing analogy may be appropriate with regard to farm business. In the near future, many farmers will be wondering whether to mend the fence and make do, replace it or move it to a different place altogether. There will be choices but these presently remain unclear. We are effectively waiting to brae in our new posts with no idea if we are in the right place, or even the right field!

Resilience is the current buzzword. What are the opportunities and the threats to current farming practices? What support measures are out there? How can we tap in to funding? Are we supplying what the market wants? Are there new income streams to look at? The million pound question: “do we need to do something different”? So many questions to consider. One thing is clear. This is a time for heads up, not heads down.

There are also the thorny issues that for some families continue to lurk in the background, like succession planning, retirement and bringing younger people in to the business. There has never been a more important time to reappraise the business and be in a position to react to whatever changes may hit our industry.

Time then to lay the thorny hedge, get the fence posts in position, and keep a firm hold until they are properly “braed” in. Like my old mentor Dick Clark found out with me, the ground might be rocky, there will be a few scrapes and some pain along the way, but get it right and the new fence will stand strong for years to come.

WHAT ARE CUMBRIAN FARMERS WORTH TO CUMBRIA?

What value do we place on farmers and their role in society when looking at the capital assets of beautiful areas like Cumbria?

Old grandfather Jackson farmed close to a small village on the Furness Peninsula in South Cumbria. It was always his dream job and a successful coal merchant business allowed him to invest in land and stock. He was a dog and stick farmer relying on his friends, Alan and Harry Wood, to “bale” him out (literally). Many happy hours I spent as a young child sitting on someone’s knee on a Fergie tractor as Grandfathers meadow was baled by a farming neighbour.

Grandad always insisted on turning a few swaths by hand. As a young boy in the early 1920’s he spent many hours working on local farms. These were truly austere days following the First World War. Everyone worked together, everyone helped. They had to! Turning his own hay with a huge hay fork reminded him of his own heritage and the culture of that time.

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Today we are trying to embrace the concept of Natural Capital as part of the 25 year Environment Plan. In 2015, attempts to value the UK’s Natural Capital estimated this at £761 billion. Bearing in mind Cumbria’s exceptional environment and abounding natural assets, it is fair to say that our County contributes considerably to that estimate.

Within Cumbria’s 6,800 square kilometres we have 2 national parks, 3 AONB’s and 2 World Heritage Sites – the Lake District – and a Roman wall. We also have something equally important, a human population of around 500,000. For all the natural capital we are so fortunate to have, our geography, location and infrastructure ensures that we have the lowest population density in the country and one of the poorest performing economies when measured as Gross Value Added (GVA).

These are challenges to the future economic viability of Cumbria and there are other challenges. As we seek to embrace natural capital as an asset, there is another piece to the land management jigsaw that needs to be slotted into place. The common denominator in the countryside and natural environment of Cumbria are the people that farm the land, manage the environment and do so much to create the landscapes that attract over 47 million visitors every year to our county.

What value do we place on our people? How do we begin to value our Social and Cultural Capital and how do we slot this into the jigsaw to form the perfect picture alongside Natural Capital? Perhaps it comes down appreciating that farmers matter more than we realise. The bedrock of many rural communities? Is that too strong?

What of the heritage and culture that our forefathers have created? My old grandfather, even in his own small way, was a proud farmer. Happy as he was turning hay by hand on a sweltering summer’s day in July, his great joy was visiting Ulverston auction to sell his lambs, just one man in the farming community, supplying and supporting many more communities country wide. What value should we place on that?

The Lake District World Heritage Site inscription delivers the perfect summation: – “Both the long duration of our farming culture and the survival to the present day of its distinctive character is considered to be of outstanding universal value.”

 

GET YOUR HEAD TO THE LEFT!

Rugby was a different game in the 90’s. There were no video referrals or radio mics. If a problem on the pitch needed sorted, it got sorted. Here is an example of how the game was played by Aspatria RUFC.

It is 1993. Aspatria RUFC have a mid- winter national league fixture at Sudbury way down south in Suffolk. As usual we leave Penrith at 3pm on Friday afternoon heading over the A66 and down the A1. The Redcrest luxury double decker coach is full, the atmosphere convivial. The playing squad sits on the top deck around numerous tables. Committee men and supporters are downstairs.

Immediately a Forwards V Backs game of Trivial Pursuits gets under way. George Doggart is over from Sweden and wants to bet on the pie questions. The Backs are full of educated, learned men like Jimmy “Jinky” Miller, Tom Borthwick, Dave Murray and Colin Campbell. The forwards however, have a secret weapon, a genuine mastermind within their ranks. Neil Wedgwood from Maryport who only just made the bus straight from the early shift at British Steel, is an unbelievable font of knowledge. His consistency in answering even the difficult “art and literature” questions is breath-taking. Single handedly he wipes the floor with the backs. They sit open mouthed as the last piece of pie is slotted in by Wedgie with a shrug of his shoulders. He is a classy open- side wing forward, always in the right place at the right time, quietly going about his work. And he is brilliant at “Triv”.

It is a great team building exercise and we are proud to represent our Club and County as we head South. We are dressed in our club shell suits and we are men on a mission. We feel like professional rugby players even though in this era there is no such thing in the union code.

Eventually we make it to The Stansted Hilton Hotel. Aspatria Rugby Club has a deal with the hotel chain and we always stay at a Hilton if there is one close to our opponent’s location. We have a team meal and then the squad retires to the bar. I am fairly new so I am rooming with a seasoned professional. It is Tony Clemetson one of our second row forwards. I am in awe of Clemmo. He has a certain reputation on and off the rugby field. He can mix it whenever he wants to. He also has a large number of caps for Cumbria. Not many Cumbrian teams like playing against Clemmo. He is heavy- handed and he can do real damage.

The squad is encouraged to stay loose, and have a drink if required, but not overdo it. Clemmo and me stick together and find ourselves having a couple of pints of Guinness. We are both selected on the bench for tomorrow’s game by rotation. Substitutes are only allowed to come on as an injury replacement. It is unlikely that we will get much of a game.

I don’t intend to keep drinking, but we find ourselves on a table with two very camp flight stewards and a couple of air hostess’s one of whom is perhaps coming towards the end of her career, with a few air miles on the clock. The air stewards seem to love having a drink with two 17 stone rugby players but the old hostess has had one too many and she is telling me her life story. She is slowly sinking in to “could have been’s” and “should have been’s”. Most of the players have retired to bed. Clemmo and me are left with Justin, Larry and a lady who is now in tears and looking for comfort. Then Robbo arrives. Forwards Coach.

“Adam what have you done to upset this lovely lady”? “Get yourself off to bed. You too Clemmo and that’s an order” We make our goodbyes and as I look back across the bar, Robbo has one arm around Justin and the other arm around the hostess. We have a chat with a couple of supporters who are on the beer. By this time Robbo has come back and joined us. “Saved you there boy” he says with a wink as we head for the lift.

Next morning we are down at breakfast with slightly thick heads. The Guinness has not gone down too well. We then go to a team meeting. It has poured down heavily all night. Tommy Borthwick, player- coach, announces that there is a change of plan. The pitch is expected to be heavy and it may well be a battle of attrition between the forwards. Clemmo is promoted from the bench to starting second row. I will have to stay warm because Steve Irving, our County Loose Head Prop is carrying a shoulder injury and may not last the trip. Clemmo and I both supress groans. I am more worried about the fact that I have never actually played in the Loose Head position in my life, never mind a national league 3 game. In fact i’ve only had a handful of games at tight- head. Not for the first time am i left wondering what the hell i’m even doing there!

We go out to the car park and do some warm up jogging and line out drills. Then we are on the coach to the game. Tommy Borthwick hands out banana’s. Everyone has to eat them. He’s read in Muscle and Fitness that NFL stars in America chew bananas constantly. My banana is more green than yellow. I force it down. It is sour and almost crunchy. I feel decidedly unwell.

The game kicks off in pouring rain but the pitch isn’t too bad. I’m taped up, greased up and sitting on the bench in my padded subs suit. It’s toasty warm and I am hoping that Aspatria will rule the game comfortably as they generally do in most forward battles. It is a style for which we are noted and even top class teams like Wasps and Moseley have struggled to take the Black Reds on up front. I rather hope that I get a nice 20 minute run at the end with no pressure.

The first couple of scrums are a real mess. I can see that the opposition tight head is collapsing in on Steve Irving. It is deliberate and designed to stop Steve doing what he is very good at. It happens again at the third scrum. This time Steve doesn’t get up. His bad shoulder has been damaged. He will have to leave the field. “Right Adam, you are on” says Robbo. “Oh Shit” I nearly blurt out.

So I am stripped for action, sleeves rolled up, and a wad of Vaseline covering my neck to allow my head to slide easily in to the alien world of the left hand side of the scrum. I haven’t even played in this position on the scrummage machine, never mind a national league match. I am straight in to the game at the reset scrum. I bind as tight as I can on my hooker Nigel Brown. He will guide me through this and I have Clemmo in the second row behind me. “Get your right leg back” says Clemmo “and get your head under his chin”

We thump in and I immediately see stars. It’s nothing to worry about. This always happens to me in the first scrum until the nerves in my neck warm up. I get a good bind with my free left arm and my back is straight. I actually feel quite comfortable. It is a Sudbury put- in to the scrum. The advantage is with us. Nigel may choose to contest the strike but he is experienced and he knows I am not. So he gets his legs back in to a pushing position. He is also exerting immense pressure with his head and shoulders on the back of his opposition hooker and my tight- head prop.

The ball is presented by the Sudbury scrum half and I feel a surge of power from behind me. Clemmo is pushing as is Malcolm Brown on the flank. They love this. I can feel my opposition begin to creak with pressure. Then he does exactly what he did with Steve Irving. He releases his bind on my left arm and nose dives into the scrum. I don’t have the technique or strength to stop it. The referee is getting edgy and he doesn’t understand what is happening. He urges us to keep up. He is rambling on about heads above hips.  I shrug my shoulders to say “not my fault” but i’m not one for pointing and gesticulating.

We reset. Immediately my prop sinks in again. He knows he’s going backwards and he is trying to win a penalty. As we stand up I look at Clemmo for guidance. “When he goes down again, get your head as far to the left as you can” he whispers. “And remember, to the left”…

We crash in again and I hold my prop up as long as I can before he dives for the deck. As we collapse I get my head out of the scrum as far to the left as I can. It hurts. Everyone gets up. Well everyone except my prop who is lying on the ground clutching his head which is bleeding profusely. He has to leave the field for treatment. It dawns on me what has just happened. As the scrum went down, Clemmo stood up and followed through with his right boot between me and Nigel, exactly where my head should have been, had I not moved to the left. Clemmo has imprinted a perfect set of stud marks on the props head. It is quite illegal of course but is the law of the jungle at scrum time. If a referee cannot sort out a problem, or does not know how to, the team’s enforcer, and every good team has one, will sort the problem for the team. Aspatria always had more than one! Clemmo shows absolutely no emotion.

A few minutes later my opposition prop is back on the field, bandaged up. We scrummage again and he doesn’t look me in the eye. As we engage he stays straight and true. I have no trouble for the rest of the game. It is an arm- chair ride and that suits me just fine (don’t tell Steve Irving). As a result I am able to run about and carry the ball regularly. Late in the game I peel from the front of the line right around the back with ball in hand. Charging past their fly half i almost get to the opposition posts before being hauled down. We score from the re- cycled ball.

I don’t remember the final result but and I am elated to have finished the game in on piece and head held high. Minutes later I am in the big team bath sitting next to Clemmo. He soaps himself and explains the instructions he gave me on the field.

“You see Adam Lad, the same thing happened in a game last year, so I told Steve Irving to get his head to the left. The problem is he doesn’t know his left from his right”. He had to come off and get six stitches when I caught him in the lug. I didn’t want that to happen to you!

Penrith Farmers suggest Lancet Report is “Hot Air”…..

This is an article i published in the Cumberland and Westmorland Herald Newspaper in January 2019. I had been auctioning cattle at Penrith Auction Mart and several farmers were conversing on the following topic. Sometimes old -fashioned “common sense” can beat “science” hands down….

The EAT Lancet Commission Report advocating a “planetary health diet” was a hot topic around the ringside at Penrith Auction Mart recently. Farmers were indignant that this is just the latest in a series of negative farmer- bashing stories. Many farmers questioned why there appears to be so little appreciation for their work in producing food either from government or members of the public. This at a time when confidence is generally running low in the industry with such an uncertain future and scant mention of food production in the Agriculture Bill.

Our conversations centred around two themes: firstly, an incredulity that anyone could suggest reducing red- meat consumption to the equivalent of one large steak per month, replacing protein  requirements with imported nuts, legumes and exotic fruit and vegetables, most of which cannot be produced in the United Kingdom. Secondly that the science promoted within the report is not clear cut.

There appears to be strong merit in both these discussions. As one Eden Valley farmer said to me pointing at his cattle “we can grow grass very well on an extensive system. It is sustainable cattle and sheep production and we can keep on doing this as long as we get a fair market price to help us invest back in to the business”. He has a point as over 60% of UK farmland is grassland. It is also the case that grassland is an excellent store of carbon which in turn helps to mitigate the effects of climate change.

This brings us nicely to the science. As seems to be the case with all environmental arguments, you can find apparently plausible “science” at both ends of the climate- change spectrum, some arguing for a significant reduction in livestock farming others opining that at current production levels, no changes are needed. The issue of the carbon cycle is far from straight- forward. Furthermore the Lancet report fails to address the sustainability of countries like the UK having to substantially increase imports of products that cannot be produced on a commercial scale at home.

Another farmer shrugged his shoulders and asked “where is the common sense in this”? Thinking further about the debate I realised that there are areas of agreement. We all accept that the world population is set to rise to over 10b in the next thirty years. Forecasts also show that UK population will increase by 20m to over 85m people. We need to feed people properly and sustainably while better protecting our environment. These are areas of common consent.

With all the challenges of climate change and rising populations that the next thirty years will bring, would a sensible common sense approach be to increase investment in sustainable food production? Also to make best use of local resources (and people), reducing food miles, increasing production from less inputs and giving the public what they really want: a sensible, healthy balanced diet including plenty of red meat for those who like it and a sustainable alternative for those who don’t.

COMMUNICATION WITH THE CUSTOMER IS EVERYTHING!

 

I was given my first company mobile phone in 1996. I’d spent months trying to persuade the auction mart directors to let me have one. Their answer was; “there is a phone box in most villages if you need to phone the office”. Then we lost a buyer’s order because I was out and uncontactable. A phone was duly purchased.  I used it late one Saturday evening to ring my fiancée from the rugby club bus to come and pick me up. My fellow players thought it rather amazing.

Farmers of today could not live without a mobile. They are in use everywhere from the milking parlour to the tractor cab. Our younger farmers are tech- savvy and rather brilliant at marketing. The back- end normally starts in late summer with social media posts showing “the top pen for next Wednesday’s sale” or “our run of heifers for next Friday”.

Some farmers post working shots throughout the year. Who can forget the photos of buried sheep being rescued from snowdrifts or stock huddled together in flooded fields as farmers battled on to rescue them.

My point is that farmers are brilliant at preaching to the converted. They are doing a great job of pre- marketing their wares to farmer- customers but now is the time to try and go a stage further. Yes, selling to best advantage is of premium importance but with the rise of social media, we should make a concerted effort to engage with the public, lift the profile of farming and persuade the world why farming, food and looking after the environment matters.

“Public payment for public goods”. If the Agriculture Bill receives royal assent by the end of March 2019, this will be our future funding regime. Now is the time to engage much more closely with the public. Food doesn’t grow in supermarkets. Our farmers need to use those newly learned marketing skills to reach their end- user, the last link in the food chain. I for one would be delighted to see a farming good- news story to counter every negative piece of anti- farming propaganda we read or watch.

So let’s get the message out there and go one step further than social media. More on- line video’s, more TV and radio interviews, more books. Whilst we are at it, what about a more concerted effort to engage our public on the farm with open days and meet and greet events. The Farmer Network and other organisations have been doing this for years on a small- scale. The photo above shows Herdwick Sheep Breeders Chairman working with volunteer farmers to talk to visitors at Grasmere Sports. Don’t leave it to someone else. Get involved

So when we promote the “top pen” or the “run of cattle” on social media, maybe explain why this is important not just to farmers, but to the public. We must lift our profile. Public payment for public goods…… like it or not, it will be the future.THE LAKE DISTRICT – OUR LAND, OUR LIVES, OUR HERITAGE.

CHRISTMAS SHOPPING IN PLYMOUTH

Up in the attic searching for Christmas decorations, I came across a box full of old rugby programmes. I spied a programme Plymouth V Aspatria, Saturday 18th December 1993. My mind went back to the game, which was one of the most memorable I played in.

Up in the attic searching for Christmas decorations, I came across a box of old rugby programmes. I spied a programme Plymouth V Aspatria, Saturday 18th December 1993. My mind went back to the game, which was one of the most memorable I played in.

We travelled down to Plymouth on Friday afternoon, on the usual double decker coach. It was a hell of a long journey but the lads were in good spirits with the usual board games and banter.  It is amazing to think that in those amateur days, a little team from North Cumbria could travel the length and breadth of England playing league rugby for zero financial reward. Sure there was some free kit and few expenses to be had, but the small squad of players were on that bus for two reasons: – to play the game of rugby union and to represent Cumbria, that far off county of lakes and mountains that some teams we played against had very little knowledge of.  This was the last game to be played before Christmas and we were shopping for much needed points

Friday night saw a late meal waiting for us at the Hilton Hotel, always a Hilton Hotel for Aspatria. Then it was a couple of drinks in the bar before bed. I was rooming with Tony Clemetson our rumbustious second row. Clemmo on his day and the right mood was a force of nature. It was always good to talk to roommates before lights out. It helped to know what made people tick and what they were about. Clemmo always had an edge to him and I for one was always glad to know he had my back on the rugby pitch.

After a good night’s sleep we breakfasted before running up and down the car park doing some walk- throughs and drills, mostly for lineouts and back row moves. Then with time to spare I took off for a walk with our club captain Mark (Tank) Richardson. I enjoyed this as it took my mind of the game and stopped the nerves building too early. I did this on a few occasions with Tank. A huge presence on the pitch, he was unstoppable from close quarters, he quietly got on with the job, leading by example. When the unsubtle stuff was needed, Tank never failed to step up to the plate! Off the pitch he was a quite family man. Often on our walks he would stop at a shop and by a couple of presents for his young children. At the time I didn’t appreciate the pressure on family men, leaving their families for most of the weekend to travel the country in pursuit of a decent standard of rugby. Several of our players had children and it must have been hard for those men leaving their wives and partners with young family.

Some years later I was delighted to see Tank’s dedication to Cumbrian rugby rewarded when he was selected to play for the Barbarian’s.

Soon we were on the coach for the trip to the ground. We could see that the pitch wasn’t far from the sea. By now a real storm was brewing. As we alighted from the coach we could see rain squalls whipping across the pitch. It was frankly horrible weather, freezing cold and a muddy waterlogged pitch. We were used to this of course!

As we walked in to the changing room we saw a few of their players run out on to the pitch, dance about in the mud as their feet got wet and then quickly run back in to the warmth of their changing room. This was noted by Malcolm Brown. Malcolm was our pack leader on the field, assisting club captain Tank. As we changed in to warm- up kit, Malcolm urged us to get a move on. Finally with tracksuits, extra sweat- shirts and pom- pom hats on, were ready to go out.

Now here was the genius of Malcolm. “Right lads” he said. “Did you see those ponces out there?” He looked all of us in the eye and he was starting to froth at the side of his mouth. This was always a good sign as it meant he was already up for the game.

“T shirts and shorts only” he instructed. “We’re going out there to show these soft southern b….s what we’re made of. We are men of Cumbria, don’t forget that when we are on the pitch”. His tone was rising all the while, so we stripped off our tracksuits and sweatshirts. When we were ready we ran out as a squad dressed in a single T shirt and a pair of shorts.

“Down on the ground now” barked Malcolm and there in front of the grandstand we lay down on our fronts in the freezing mud. “20 slow press- ups, count them Clemmo”.

As Clemmo counted, Malcolm kept on talking. In the Plymouth changing room we could see a crowd of faces peering out the window at us. “Look at them” he said. They are already frightened of us. They don’t want it. They don’t want to be here. WE DO!”

For the next 30 minutes we ran and ran, hitting tackle pads, doing drills. It was so wet and cold we were actually glad to do it just to keep warm. Finally, satisfied that we were ready, Malcolm marched us back in to the changing rooms, dripping in mixure of sweat and cold rain. Plymouth hadn’t appeared.

Taped up and greased up we went back out in to the melee. Our tactical coach Tommy Borthwick wanted us to play our normal wet weather game. Kick for the corners and let the pack do the rest. Up the jumper, traditional Aspatria power play. For a second I pitied our backs who were going to have 80 minutes with very little to do!

That afternoon I was propping against a man who the previous season had been a Bath 1st XV squad player and had dropped back to league three. We had a good battle and it was honours even as I used the Syd Graham shoulder on knee technique to good effect on our ball. I was also fortunate to have men like Nigel Brown at hooker, who was the most awkward, niggly hooker a team could have. He was always breaking his bind and getting his head under his oppositions chin for annoyance. Great to play with but a nightmare to play against.

They couldn’t live with us that day and in those dour conditions and with a team absolutely driven to win, we were never going to lose. We would have run over a cliff for Malcolm that day. For 80 minutes he urged us forward as “Men of Cumbria” and we blew them away.

Sitting in the team bath later, slowly feeling the warmth creep back in to our bodies was a great feeling. We had travelled 300 miles and were taking home maximum points for Christmas. We celebrated long in to the night around Plymouth. Eventually we found ourselves back at the hotel at about midnight. I spied a grand piano in the hotel lounge. I sidled over to it and to my amazement it was unlocked. I slid on to the piano stool and begin playing and singing Christmas songs. Soon some of the lads came over and eventually some hotel guests even joined us. It turned in to a proper rugby club sing- song. I well remember our club chairman David Miller and his wife Margaret, swaying with the crowd. What a way to finish a great day’s rugby.

Sunday morning was a quiet affair. We breakfasted and then jumped on the bus for the long journey back. Some players slept off their hangovers, others watched the on- board film, The Fugitive starring Harrison Ford. Eventually after several hours and as dusk was falling, I was dropped off at Penrith, job done.

I look back now and realise how proud I was to play in those games. A former Aspatria player and good friend Alistair Grant, said to me many years later, that the biggest driver at Aspatria was the constant desire not to let the club down on the pitch. I knew what he meant!

Props can’t dance…….

Last week i had the great pleasure of attending Aspatria RUFC annual “Tattie Pot” supper as a guest speaker. Having spent a few seasons in the 90’s with the club playing national league rugby, it was great to catch up with many old pals including club legends George Doggart and Les Mctear together with the Presidents of the England RFU and Cumbria. I also recounted this tale about my introduction to the dark world of the front row………..

 

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It is a cold and miserable Saturday afternoon in November 1992. The rain is lashing across the Solway Plain and is almost horizontal as it wisps in towering curtains across Bower Park, Aspatria. The first XV is playing a friendly against Middlesborough who are themselves a strong team from the North East. It is an inauspicious game for Aspatria supporters, as several star players are away on County duty. This gives many squad players a chance to play first team rugby and make a mark. It is particularly auspicious for me as it is only my third game at tight head prop – ever, and I am in the starting line up!

Two weeks ago I made my debut for Aspatria 3rd XV. Last week I played for the 2nds, and this week I am playing for Aspatria 1st XV. Some of my old playing colleagues at Penrith laughed at me when I left and said that I would never get a 1st XV game no matter how long I tried. I took the view, that if I didn’t have a go, then I would never know. It is unusual for a back row player to make the change to front row. I’ve nothing to lose, and at 27 years old, I will never get another chance.

However there are certain things in my favour. Firstly the rugby laws have changed making the body position of prop forwards in the scrum far more regulated. We are supposed to scrummage with heads above hips and bind on the opposition’s shirt on top of his body. Traditionalists argue that this has made it easier to scrummage. It is true, but you still have to have a technique and some strength. Secondly Aspatria have a massively strong pack. It is feared by most local opposition and many southern teams hate making the trip to Bower Park. All that experience and knowledge means that I have several good men and an odd “bad man” watching my back.

Physically I am about ready to go, technically as a prop forward, I haven’t a clue. Syd Graham is an Aspatria legend, many times capped at prop for Cumbria. Now retired, he is brought in to give me personal coaching. As part of my pre- season training he has beasted me on the scrummage machine and in live scrummaging. Aspatria prides itself on the scrum. They have tested me out, run my legs to jelly, but I keep trying. Sometimes I want to give in and say “enough”, but I won’t.

Syd has been great. He’s ripped up the law book and taught me some “get out of jail” tricks at scrummage time. My absolute favourite is to bring my right knee forward and then crouch low in the scrum so that my right shoulder is actually resting on my knee. It is a brilliantly comfortable position which means I am scrummaging with my head less than one foot from the ground, but there is no chance of me collapsing down to the ground as I am propped up by my own leg. Only the very strongest of loose head props can lift me from this position and by the time he works in to that position on our put in, the ball is long gone.

So after the beasting and the initiation, the coaches believe I am ready to be thrown in at the deep end. My opposition is a wily old fox, many times capped for Yorkshire and now near the end of his career. I stand in the tunnel underneath the new grandstand. Above me is a sign saying “Welcome to Bower Park”. Any teams that play here know they are going to be a given a hard game. The nerves are jangling. I want to run with the ball, which is my forte, but I am constantly reminded that my job is to secure the scrummage. We run on to the pitch. It is waterlogged and frankly horrible.

Due to the conditions, it is not long before the first scrummage is called. I get in to position. Nigel Brown is playing beside me at hooker and he is talking to me all the time, “binding, head up, don’t paddle, lead us in”. We thump together and immediately we go to ground. It is my fault. I’ve tried to hit so hard that I’ve over- balanced and as we collapse in a heap I face plant in to 6 inches of mud. This sets the tenure for the game. I am steadily worked over by my prop. He knows where to put his feet, where to bind, when to go low, when to go high. I am always a few seconds behind him, trying to work out a way to counter- act what he does.

In one scrum, he puts me under so much pressure that I collapse in to the tunnel and even lose my left arm bind with my own hooker. The entire Middlesborough pack trundles over me, and every one of them makes sure they accidently stand on me.  It doesn’t really hurt but it is embarrassing. All I can do is get up and smile and go back for more. The scrum reforms and I realise that I just need to survive, so I use the “shoulder on knee” technique that Syd has taught me. It works with immediate effect. The pitch is so wet, that my opposition can’t push from such a low position or he loses his feet. He tries once, slips and is penalised. I don’t take a step backwards for the rest of the game, as I just sit on my knee.

We lose the game but I am not really bothered. I have had some dodgy moments, but survived the game and we only lost one put- in to the opposition. The coaches think I have done alright. I haven’t let anyone down.

Training sessions at Aspatria can be pretty brutal. Senior player and forwards coach Malcolm Brown loves a game of no holds barred Murder Ball. Two packs of forwards locked in a 10 metre grid, fighting to get the ball to the opposition end. It is usually all out warfare. You have to go in head first, as hard as you can or you will get hurt. At the start of the first coupIe of murder ball games I play in, Malcolm throws the ball straight to me. He is testing me out. I have never experienced this level of intensity in my rugby life. What it does do, is build unbelievable team spirit and camaraderie.

Amazingly as the season progresses I am holding my own and have yet to be dropped. Slowly but surely I am learning the ropes playing in a strong and very able pack of forwards. I am also running around the park and scoring tries on a regular basis which can be the only reason I remain in the side

In to the New Year we play Broughton Park, a top Lancashire side. They are now plying their trade in National 3. I am propping against John Russell whom I have heard referred to as Psycho. He is a strong player having been capped at England U19 level and in the current North of England set up.  He looks menacing with a shaved head and a constant glare in his steely blue eyes, especially at scrum time.

There is an unwritten rule which Nigel and Steve, my fellow front rowers have drilled in to me. If I am ever able to put so much pressure on my opposite prop that he breaks his bind and puts his hand on the ground, then I have to stamp on it. This is front row union law and it has to be obeyed, indeed it is expected.

Half way through the first half, the strength of the Aspatria pack is beginning to tell. We are grinding them down in a series of rolling mauls, one of our specialities. Indeed the “up the jumper” style of rugby is a feature of our powerhouse game. We play nine man rugby, which is the entire pack plus George Doggart our internationally capped scrum half. He controls the whole show and is the orchestrator.

I’m propping against John Russell. He is as strong as ox but i am holding my own. In fact in one particular scrum I feel that I am putting him under pressure. He breaks his bind and his entire left forearm hits the floor. He is stuck there while I am still on my feet. Then I hear Nigel Brown’s voice. He removes his false front teeth prior to the game, so it is not a good place to stand in front of him when he is talking or shouting.

“Go on then” he says through the large gap in his teeth “Thoo ‘im” I realise he means “shoe him”. I can’t get out of it. It is the law of the jungle. I’ve hardly ever stepped on anyone in my career and if I did I would probably apologise”. There is nothing else to do. I begin to rake my studs up and down John Russell’s arm. The scrum breaks up and Nigel is laughing. He is wind up merchant and niggles the opposition constantly throughout the game. He says to John Russell. “He’s had a good dance on you there pal”. I cringe and want to say “actually I can’t dance” Psycho looks at his arm which is bleeding and then he looks at me. A big smile breaks out on his face and he nods his head. Just one nod, but that nod tells me “don’t worry sunshine. I will catch up with you before the end of the game”. All i can think is “oh no, this is going to hurt”.

I know it’s coming but not when. Then the best thing that could possibly happen!  With only 10 minutes to go, I am substituted. I pretend to be disappointed nay distraught as I leave the pitch shaking my head and ripping the tape off my ears. In reality I am very glad to get off before Psycho extracts his revenge. It is the only time in my career that I play against him. When I next see him, many years later, he is a media personality on TV as an expert adviser on Cowboy Builders!