Farm on the M62: Market days come with a hefty price - Jill Thorp
Every day is a market day… or so it seems in our house. We’ve seen little of Paul as he heads out early, three or four times a week, sometimes more, loaded with sheep.
From Bentham to Holmfirth and Gisburn to Clitheroe, his days are spent on the road and round a ring. Unfortunately, the travelling couldn’t have come at a worse time, with fuel prices at an all-time high.
Behind the jokes seen on social media about the crippling costs and, of course, the latest government app to encourage you to drive several hundred miles to find fuel a couple of pence cheaper, there lies real worry about the effect these prices are having. I’ve no idea how the haulage companies are managing to keep going. I wonder how the supermarket shelves will look when it is no longer financially viable to not only produce food but also to actually deliver it.
As we head into winter, a time when most of our sheep go away from home for their winter keep, we’ve had some pretty serious conversations about our future here. The reality is we simply cannot afford the fuel bill. We don’t have the grazing at home for them, and coupled with soaring rent costs, we have been forced down the inevitable route of selling them. We’re not alone, and whilst we’re not all in the same boat, we’re definitely drowning in the same ocean. It’s a bitter pill to swallow; watching years of hard work disappear, especially when the next generation is still hopeful there could be a future here. For now, unfortunately it’s the only logical route we can take.
Whilst the weather has remained fair, the cows have stayed out on the hill. There’s a definite chill in the morning air reminding us that winter is not far off. The Leicester girls are all with their tups, although there seems to be a lack of action in the lamb-making department. We’ve been unable to buy a new lad to use this year; the prices have been off the scale. Great for those on the receiving end of the record prices, not so great if you’re a buyer! For once I’m tempted to agree with Paul and call it a day.
It’s hard to believe that twelve whole months have passed since we made the trip down to the NEC for the Horse of the Year show with our wonderful little Bronze. We headed down again this year to cheer our friends on, and whilst it was certainly less stressful being a spectator this time, the day had a touch of sadness knowing that I’d never see the little guy in that arena again. His time in the saddle is slowly drawing to a close, with crippling nerves destroying his enjoyment.
The step up to Oísin, his Connemara, has proved to be a big one, and whilst he still enjoys the farm rides, the competitive streak has gone, meaning a return to the ring for me. It’s been many years since I last competed; however, my old jodhpurs and riding boots do still feel like comfy old slippers. I just need to remember where I left my brave pants!
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