Will’s World: Shiny happy regen people – a spotter’s guide
© Richard Stanton The present Mrs Evans and I have just spent a fabulous few days at Groundswell.
We caught up with old friends and new, ate plenty of lovely food, learned a lot from the various speakers, and all too briefly relived our youth by having a dance and more than a few drinks on the Wednesday evening before sleeping in the back of a van on an airbed.
See also: What makes the ideal wheat variety for regenerative farming?
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It’s just a shame that it deflated in the night, and I woke up with two reminders that I’m very much not a youth anymore – an aching hip and a mild hangover.
That aside, it’s given us both a much-needed lift after an extremely difficult farming year, and I commend the organisers for putting on such an outstandingly positive event, as usual.
Character types
As a grizzled veteran Groundswell-goer, I always enjoy spotting the very particular cast of characters who frequent the festival. I shall attempt to profile them here.
The grazing geek: Can mostly be seen loitering around the electric fencing equipment retailer stands getting mildly aroused by solar-powered energisers and geared reels.
There are only two things they worship more than pasture itself – plate meters and New Zealand-style short shorts, which they wear 365 days of the year.
The party animal: Tends not to appear until lunchtime, when they’re to be seen in their droves around the Earthworm Arms taking liquid refreshment.
Shout out to the man who sat next to me, pint of cider in hand, at the 10am presentation on Wednesday morning from renowned US farmer John Kempf.
Admirable commitment to supporting British apple and pear growers.
The hippy: Straight out of a time tunnel from Woodstock 1969, they’re never seen without tie-dye, sandals and a Vote Green badge, and have a long-held interest in organic hemp production.
The curious conventional farmer: More usually seen at Cereals or Lamma, but their weirdest friend has convinced them to come to Groundswell.
They arrive with a deep sense of scepticism about all this regenerative nonsense and repeatedly ask, “But isn’t this just old-fashioned mixed farming?”
By the end of the day, they’ve ordered half a tonne of herbal ley seed, spoken to a Welsh farmer about grazing sheep on their wheat, and applied for funding to plant 4km of new hedges this winter.
They leave happy, but bewildered by what’s just happened.
Familiar faces
The noisy rewilder: They’re rewilding half the estate that’s been in their family since it was bought with highly dubious means a few centuries ago, and they love to tell you about it.
On the other half, they’re raising rare-breed cattle and selling the burgers for £16 each from a stand in the food village.
They drive a battered and ancient Land Rover and dress like a tramp, despite being wealthier than everyone else on the site combined.
The salesperson: They don’t really know why they’re here, but the management insisted. It’s 28C and they’re at the most relaxed event in UK agriculture wearing shirt, chinos, polished boots and a branded Schoffel.
They can’t wait to get home for a shower.
Regen royalty: They were into soil before it was cool.
They have highly profitable diversified farm businesses, fly all round the world speaking at similar events where they are lauded by all in attendance, and advise individuals, organisations and governments on the benefits of regenerative agriculture.
They’ve written a bestselling book and have more groupies and hangers-on than the Rolling Stones at their peak. I only wish I was one of them.
Have I missed anyone? Let me know.