Farm on the M62: A not so green and pleasant land - Jill Thorp
As the 127th day of January begins, it’s apparent from a quick glance outside, we are still buried in an impenetrable web of dense, damp fog. It really is grim. It clings to every surface, cold and moisture laden, leaving us all well and truly fed up. It’s the reason for the lights on this stretch of the motorway.
Initially the Pennine section of the M62 was unlit but it quickly became apparent with the areas prevalence for being plunged into a deep peat souper, rendering visibility nigh on impossible. Apparently the Pennines are the most frequently foggy areas in the whole of the UK. I would add to that, that Stott Hall Farm is without a doubt the most fog prone area in the whole of the UK. This latest period of gloom has lasted what feels like an eternity. Day after day, night after night we feel trapped, unable to see out. It’s suffocating presence shows no sign of lifting meaning our straw usage doubles in a desperate bid to keep the cows and of course my Leicester girls dry.
Its exhausting to drive in. Eyes staring intently ahead quickly become tired as such concentration is needed. The drive home down Deanhead seems to take forever, just the patch of road in front, the moorland still there but swallowed up by the oppressive fog.
The volume of rubbish littering our land is disgraceful. Every day I’m picking up some discarded food wrapper or drinks can. Unfortunately the fly tipping up on the tops has escalated to an almost catastrophic level. Every lay-by is piled high with discarded rubbish; sofas, beds, building waste. Our gateways are also subjected to this disgustingly lazy crime leaving us beside ourselves with rage and repulsion. The litter blows across the moorland whilst nobody wants to take responsibility. The council appear uninterested, the police ambivalent and locals devastated at the mindless destruction of their treasured surroundings. This complete lack of worth and pride in our countryside seems to be engulfing the entire country, after all, why carry your empty food wrappers around in your car when it’s so much easier to hurl it from an open window whilst traversing the Pennines. Out of sight, out of mind but alas certainly not out of our sight. Since Christmas, two new large stretches of our fencing have been flattened, bits of broken bumper and quite often number plates left discarded in amongst the heather. Nobody bothers to clean up the damage, no attempts made at repairs leaving us with yet another costly fencing job. It’s a regular job for us during the summer months. The road above our farm has become a popular race track and despite police attendance especially when they go through our fencing and their cars get stuck in a bog, no charges are ever brought against them. Its our responsibility, our cost to bear.
For once, our preparation for lambing time has begun early. No more last minute panic buys and frantic cleaning of sheds, shippons or stables. I’m feeling quite smug at my organisational skills and like every shepherd out there, praying for a kind spring. My phone often brings up old photos, a reminder of the conditions we’ve faced during previous lambing times; never ending deluges of rain, sleet and hail and of course the dreaded “beast from the east”. However, we’ve had enough rain to last a lifetime up here and I can only hope that we’ll be due a healthy dose of sunshine come lambing time.