Farm on the M62: Seeking sanctuary in a chaotic world - Jill Thorp
A good friend of mine, one I’ve known since childhood made a big move recently, up into North- East Scotland leaving me questioning whether we could ever be brave enough to do similar. A quieter life perhaps, more peaceful, miles of open space and no doubt an escape from the insanity we are all living in right now.
Her daughter is home-schooled, something I’ve often considered myself whilst worrying over the little guy’s struggles. Last week, whilst I was knelt down busy weeding in a customer’s garden, a text came through from him, one that stopped me in my tracks. I stared at the buttercups and wild geums running rampant through the bed, processing his message.
“We’re under our desks Mum, the school is in lockdown “
It’s not the first time this has happened and judging by the direction our once great nation is currently heading in, it won’t be the last. Little information is given, just a threat deemed serious enough for the school to be placed in lockdown and the children left hiding under their desks all morning. The threat was dealt with by lunchtime after which they were expected to carry on as normal. The anxiety and panic attacks came later, something I’m sure many other children suffered as the incident was quickly brushed under the carpet. At no time, during my school years did I ever find myself locked in a classroom cowering under my desk, with my teacher pressing her finger to her lips, urging us to remain silent. At no point was I in this position, wondering what was about to unfold, leaving me questioning just what on earth is going on with our society. This scenario is not a unique one, not for that school and many others. It is not an inner city problem, but a poison that is slowly but surely leaking into our rural communities. No amount of wandering on the moors listening to the Curlews or burying his face into the fleece of his favourite ewe can wash away the worry and turmoil that now lingers on his face. The far reaching views across the ever changing landscape of the Pennines has always been a place of refuge and comfort for me as I’m sure it has for many. The animals, a constant grounding reassurance of normality and sense in an increasingly absurd world, where you feel a foreigner in your own town or village. I can understand my friends desire to escape, to head north into broader, more expansive land where you can go perhaps days without seeing a soul. Right now it sounds perfect.
The seasons are pushing on, hedgerows alive with small birds, the scent of the may flower filling the air. We’ll soon be well into summer, the show season and freshly cut grass replacing the lambing fields. The maternity shed will once again fall silent as the hay making machinery reappears and the crazy, exhausting overwhelming emotions that lambing time brings are replaced with fertiliser, grass and obsessive weather watching! The wonderful agricultural shows have begun and the little guy will soon be focusing his attention on another “golden ticket” to the arena of dreams with little Ellie. It is the only constant we have, our normality and our way of life. Following the seasons, marvelling at nature and it’s ever changing colours and flow, is what keeps us focused and sane and we’re so very grateful that we still have it.