Farmer Rocky Poulson’s death has parallels with that of headteacher Ruth Perry - Sarah Todd

She took her own life last year after an Ofsted inspection and the coroner who presided over the inquest into her death concluded the process had “lacked fairness, respect and sensitivity” and was at times “rude and intimidating”.

Just as Ruth’s teaching colleagues called for changes to be made to the way inspections are handled, so has the farming community.

Rocky’s family believe it was the worry about the ear tagging - which was a genuine mistake - that drove him to take his life. They said he feared a large fine and further inspections.

They have also spoken about the need for inspectors to take into account the exhaustion and other pressures that the farming community are under.

Again, as in the sad story of Ruth, there seemed to be no regard for anything else that was going on either in the farmyard or the school and the workload pressures they were both under.

Fair enough, there needs to be rules and regulations in all sectors and agriculture and education are no exception. Dreadful teachers - those who don’t care about their pupils - need to be rooted out. Likewise, any rogue farmers who deliberately try to cash in with inaccurate record keeping, should be made an example of.

But both of these people were so obviously passionate about their charges - animals and children - that the way they were handled is an absolute and utter outrage.

Almost before children are out of nappies they are made to jump through official hoops; tested and assessed.

It often seemed to me, when our children were young, that the educational authorities could never leave them alone to just be kids with mucky knees. They were always having to reach required Government standards in this, that and the other.

Who are the teachers we all remember? For me, it’s the ones who brought a little personality to the job.

The headmaster of the second primary school attended by this carrot-haired pupil was a fine example of a teacher.

We weren’t the best at maths or spelling, but we got to bomb down the hill next to the school on old plastic fertiliser bags every time it snowed. He encouraged us to cycle into school - a distance of about four miles across one of the most notorious crossroads in the north riding of Yorkshire. We wrote stories and painted pictures. The playground buzzed with British Bulldogs, hopscotch, conkers and kiss-catch. There were outside toilets and - wait while the rose-tinted spectacles are given a wipe - we were happy.

When we went on to secondary school there were tuts from certain quarters about a - how to put it? - lack of finesse in our education. But there is one thing we all have in common, even now, 40 years on. Never has a single person from those school days been bumped into, in the supermarket or at a wedding or somewhere, who hasn’t got the skills that this writer ranks above all others - smiling, saying hello and stopping for a bit of a chat.

There is that old turn of phrase about ‘jobs for the boys’ and is that the world we now live in? Assessors, examiners and general box tickers filling in clipboards; keeping an eye on us.

Just the other day memories came flooding back of an old farmer, from 40 years ago; who used to refer to the front pouch in the dungarees he always wore as ‘the office’. In it, he kept everything he needed to run his farm - pick-up keys, cheque book, pen and maybe an old beermat with a few notes scribbled on the back.

Our world has moved too far towards trying to fit every square peg into a round hole, whether it be farming, education or pretty much any other industry or service.

Just think of all the fantastic matrons there used to be in hospitals, turning a blind eye to the odd nip of alcohol or five minutes over official visiting hours. The old doctors we used to have, who sat and chatted and asked after other family members. Vicars twirling old aunties around on the dancefloor at wedding receptions.

It sometimes feels like budgets, bureaucracy and blooming inspections have sucked all the joy out of life these days.