Opinion: Farming and parenting are tough to balance

Let’s talk about guilt.

Not the type you feel when you flatten your nephew with a Ronaldo-style free-kick from 20ft (admittedly, I should have known those wellies weren’t conducive to the amount of curl I was aiming for) or even the type you get when you really should have taken your wellies off before popping into Mum’s house to see her new cream carpet.

No, I’m talking about that deep-seated, underlying guilt that seems to be part of modern life. The kind that can’t be assuaged with half a packet of sweets or a squirt of carpet cleaner.

I’m a sucker for data, so here’s a fact. Farmers work an average of 65 hours a week. To put that into perspective, the national average is 37 hours.

See also: Ian Farrant: Farming’s main ingredients – family and cake

If you ran a tractor for 3,380 hours a year, you’d expect to get fairly friendly with your local service department and soon be trading it in for a new model.

However, we don’t have that luxury when it comes to our own bodies.

Shoehorning an additional 70,000 hours of work into a lifetime will obviously result in wear and tear. It’s not just the dented bodywork or worn joints we need to be wary of, but the impact it has on our mental health.

Unbreakable promise

I’m now a proud father to two incredible mini humans.

At the birth of both my children, I made a promise that being a great dad comes top of any to-do list. It’s a promise I think about every day and one I have no intention of breaking.

However, while it seemed a very simple, clear plan in Hereford Hospital’s delivery ward, as time moved on, it began causing me a serious level of anxiety and doubt.

Finding a balance between being physically present with the family and working hard to provide for them is not something I’ve mastered yet, and I’m guessing I’m not the only one.

I see myself as a relatively modern man.

My partner teaches for three days of the week and, crucially, brings in a reliable stream of income, which will be needed more than ever as we wave goodbye to our BPS payments.

So, we share almost all the daily tasks that are required to keep the children from becoming fully feral.

While I haven’t quite learned how to drive the washing machine yet, I excel in kicking Lego under the sofa when the doorbell rings and can even bake and decorate a birthday cake that partially resembles a unicorn (albeit one with more than a hint of Schmallenberg).

One of the joys of working on a farm is living on-site. No time wasted listening for travel reports on the car radio, or pre-packing a lunch bag.

The 30-second commute can be covered in just 15 seconds if required and the return journey for lunch in a flat 10 seconds.

Work/life world

However, this interwoven work/life world we inhabit is also the root of the problem.

When I open the curtains in the morning, I don’t see the picture-perfect Herefordshire countryside, all I see is cattle that need moving, weeds

that need spraying or I can hear my neighbour’s 6t/acre wheat crop laughing at me over the hedge.

Then, when I close the curtains last thing at night, I just have to check I can’t hear any cattle running up the drive (trying to emulate the great escape of 2009, which made the local press and wasn’t the best way to meet our new neighbours). It’s hard to switch off.

A wise neighbour recently told me you should leave the farm once a week, the county once a month and the country once a year.

Our farm straddles the county boundary, so I can kill two birds with one stone on the school run!

But in all seriousness, he has a fantastic point. Leaving the farm, even for a few hours, can bring some much-needed perspective or distraction.

To drain all life out of the tractor metaphor, just as we service our machinery on a regular basis, we should all make sure we take the time to look after ourselves and each other, too.

Everyone knows that a “Jack of all trades is a master of none”, but critically the quote goes on to say “but oftentimes better than a master of one”.

I can’t think of many other occupations that require such a broad range of skills.

At the end of any given day, it’s not unusual to have been a mechanic, accountant, vet, plumber and agronomist, played the futures market and even spent half an hour perfecting a rain dance.

This variety is part of the appeal of agriculture – no two days are the same, and every season brings a new wave of challenges.

Balancing act

In my situation, maybe the key to my sanity is simply accepting that I’m doing my very best at balancing being a farmer and a father.

The best version of myself is happy, calm and content, ignoring the voice inside that is constantly striving for unattainable perfection.

My job puts food on the table and hopefully pays the mortgage, but also provides the girls with the most incredible place to call home and life lessons that are only available for those lucky enough to be brought up on a farm. Maybe that is perfection?

While writing this, I seem to have polished off a foot-long chocolate Swiss roll and can feel pangs of guilt building deep in my gut.

Although this time, it may actually just be indigestion.