This past weekend I spent some time on a farm with some friends celebrating a birthday. I’ve visited my friend’s family farm in Wiltshire a few times, and it always feels like some sort of exciting school trip, particularly as the people I’m with are generally geologists getting excited about rocks.
While they explain about their work as a hydrologist or their research into the Earth’s inner core, I can tell them about The Oliviers and some good West End shows. Not exactly comparable but for the moment it’s all I have. So this week I learned what the inner core might be made of and how wind farms use nearby water supplies to create energy…at least I think that’s what they were talking about.
But back to the farm, where there is never a dull moment. We got to feed the pigs, collect hens eggs, walk the ferret and nuzzle the horses – basically all of the cool stuff that sounds mundane but actually makes you revert to a 5 year old squealing at the silly animals. The best part happened just before I left, when my friend, her father and I went on a drive to check some of their cows and give some medication to a calf. The excitement came when we happened upon said cows milling around the roadside having broken through the electric fence. We chased the cows back into their field, with the help of Zip the beautiful kelpie dog, and went about fixing the broken fence and tending to the sickly calf.
I have always said that I am a city girl, I found village life stifling to grow up in and moved to London as soon as I could, but last weekend left me yearning for a bit of fresh air and green pastures. Ah well, it’s nice to have a plan – if London doesn’t work out, I’ll just marry a farmer. Sorted.