Some field work at last week’s farmers’ rally gave our columnist some new insight into the pressures facing everybody working in agriculture in West Cork. Now if only the weather would play ball ...!
• I’M a horribly impatient person, so usually when I’m stuck behind a tractor for any period of time (generally anything longer than three minutes) I tend to get a bit you know, worked up (we’re talking fierce cursing, epic eye rolling, occasionally some thigh thumping).
Anyway, the other night I was stuck behind not one tractor, but at least 10 (with the odd car interspersed here and there), all headed to the same place – the IFA-organised nitrates derogation rally in Bandon. I was actually going there myself, wearing my reporter’s hat for this newspaper.
Anyway, instead of my usual fury being unleashed by the long line of traffic crawling along, I actually felt something approaching empathy (or should that be sympathy? I always get those two mixed up) for those grappling with the many challenges facing the industry. Hear me out …
• I’m from a farming background but it’s really only in the last five years that I’ve felt any affinity or appreciation for the agriculture sector. And seeing as we’re all friends here, I’ll admit that it’s only in the last six months that I’ve fully understood what derogation is all about (google it, I still get a tiny bit confused).
Another confession: until relatively recently I was absolutely terrified of cows. Like properly scared. If I had to block cattle (I think there was something about that in small print on my birth cert … it’s been non-negotiable my entire life), I’d take up my position at least 10 feet back from the gate or the gap, armed with a hurley which I’d poke the air with threateningly, and have my escape route precisely worked out in advance. There was one false alarm where I thought a cow was coming for me (she actually just lost her footing) and I scaled a gate with such dexterity that even Derval O’Rourke would have been impressed (my hips, less so).
Anyway, I’ve worked my way through that irrational fear and now I’ve a healthy respect for the ‘ladies’ and their contribution to the local economy, and a whole heap more for the men, women, and entire families who look after them.
• Right, so staying with admissions, I’m also pretty impressionable. If you told me to jump off a bridge, I’d probably give it a go (if I wasn’t scared of heights), but even the most impartial observer would have found it difficult to not be some way moved by the speakers at the IFA rally. If you could have somehow (milk) bottled the energy and passion on the night and taken it to Europe which will have the final say on keeping the country’s derogation or not, the farmers were away on a hack. Not that easy though, unfortunately. It never is.
• Now, my late grandfather used to say that it doesn’t matter how thin a pancake is, there’s two sides to every story, and I totally get that when it comes to the derogation debate. Water quality has to be improved. There’s an onus on the sector to do their bit.
But there’s still something my tiny little fog-enveloped brain can’t fathom: if we don’t make the food (which is held up as ‘best in class’ all over the world) won’t we just have to get it from somewhere else? Somewhere that mightn’t be the best in the class? Am I missing a trick here? Like I said, I’m a bit thick, but it still seems like a no-brainer to my simple mind.
• Anyway, I’m equal parts embarrassed and delighted to announce that I walked to the top of Lough Hyne for the first time during the week. I’ve no idea why it took me this long but now that I’ve done it once, I intend to make it a regular excursion. I probably don’t need to tell any readers what a gorgeous spot it is, with such incredible views to reward you when you reach the summit (I’m being a bit dramatic, I know).
It is a relatively easy walk up, but I must obviously have looked a little under pressure, as a few people on their descent said to me ‘you’re nearly there now!’ (cheeky!). Various nationalities were represented when we got to the top, including English and German, and I was almost sorry I hadn’t brought an Irish flag with me to stake in the ground (next time).
In typical fashion I’m now all about hiking and have my sights set next on Knockboy, the highest point in Cork; and am spending all my free time researching what type of crampons to buy. I did say I was impressionable!
• Now, I don’t always want to be banging on about the weather but lads, is the summer slipping away from us a bit? I’ve seriously scaled down expectations and we’ve even gone swimming in the rain but we could do with things getting a small bit settled. I don’t want to sound too churlish, though, given the unbearable temperatures in mainland Europe.
Crickey, for once ‘temperate’ doesn’t seem too bad, does it? To be honest I’ve even given up watching the forecast (unless it’s Joanna Donnelly’s turn … I’m a big fan of hers), and sure given that it didn’t rain round here on St Swithin’s Day, we’ll hope for the best. Fingers crossed.
• Right, so has anyone managed to keep up with the RTÉ debacle? Nah, me neither. I mentioned my tiny brain problem a few paragraphs back but it’s got very complicated, hasn’t it? He said, she said, they said…you what now?
What I do wish is that I’d kept up with was the fact that Hothouse Flowers were playing in Leap last weekend. Raging that I missed them! I was a massive fan and held a torch for Liam Ó Maonlaí when I was younger. He was at my 21st (ok, he just so happened to be in the same bar as my party, but I took it as a sign from the universe that we were somehow connected).
These days I’m more impressed by Fiachra Ó Braonáin. When he presents The Late Date on Radio One, his voice is like salve to the soul. Gorgeous. Going by my social media feed, these dudes still have it and they went down a storm in West Cork. Next time I’ll be in the front row for sure.
• Finally, our Cúl Camp week is taking place this week. I know, all is right in the world again. God bless that national institution and all who volunteer there!
