Farm on the M62: It is always sad to see another farm fall - Jill Thorp

I remember when the dairy cows went at my family farm. The yard was filled with strange faces, people pacing up and down, chatting and studying what was on offer.

Endless cattle trailers and land rovers appeared, filling the fields, all waiting to take the girls away.

And then the final sale, the buildings being torn down, razed to the ground along with years of hard graft and memories.

I’m certainly not alone in going through this upheaval, this traumatic time and no doubt in the coming years, many others will go though the same process.

Whether its due to retirement with no successor to continue, loss of land or loss of energy and passion to keep going, its always sad to see another one fall.

In our house, however, machinery sales are a thing of great excitement as they’re not only a day out, but an opportunity to buy as much unneeded rubbish as is possible.

Paul is particularly good at this, but I’ve also noticed that his son has inherited his ability to come home with a trailer full of all sorts to add to the clutter.

The joy, of course, for the little guy is the thrill of bidding, usually enthusiastically encouraged by his uncle who can often be heard uttering the words “Bid on boy, bid on”. And he does.

He keenly chucks his suntanned arm aloft and tends to keep it there until he has secured his lot.

The odds and sods, hammers, crowbars, buckets of rusty nails are then deftly sold on at profit, to unsuspecting bystanders that have come for a day out and a bit of socialising.

He returned from the latest farm sale jubilant, having won way more than he’d dared to hope for.

There is now a bale trailer sat in the yard which apparently will be transformed over the coming weeks and sold on for at least double what he paid for. How quickly this will happen remains to be seen.

The return to school proved to be less stressful than of previous years.

Perhaps he is resigned to the fact that he has to go and begrudgingly admits that he quite enjoys time spent with his friends, even if it is in the confines of a classroom.

Work experience, apprenticeships and GCSE’s are now being broached, leaving me wondering where the years have gone.

One minute they’re strapped to your back as you go about your jobs on the farm, entirely dependent on you.

The next minute they’re filling out forms about future employment and careers. He has no idea of his plans and has said as much to his teachers.

He drifts in and out of interests before moving onto something new, desperate to find his place in the world. There is no doubt that he loves the farm and all the animals.

The expanse of moorland has provided him with space to explore and grow at his own pace but the daily stresses and toil that come with this lifestyle cast doubt in his mind.

I don’t blame him.

Farming has to be the absolute be all and end all if you are to pursue it.

The barriers are often so great that without this steely mind-set and determination, its a precarious route to follow.