Charlie Flindt: Minister almost gets lesson from ‘old-school’ farmer
© Kathy Horniblow I had a call from a strange mobile number. I often ignore these, but something told me that this one was important. Within moments, I knew my instinct was right.
The caller addressed me with full confidence as “Charlie”, and mumbled his own name in the way that high-powered people often do – as if you’re supposed to know. I did catch that he was from Defra, and he was speaking in hushed, almost conspiratorial, tones.
He asked if I’d mind hosting a ministerial visit; Ms Coffey would be coming to Hinton Ampner in a few days with Flick Drummond (our MP).
He knew it was slightly short notice, but could they call in? There would be a slot late morning for her to visit.
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We had a long chat about what I might have to offer the minister. I could show her exactly what’s happened on our farm now we’ve handed it back to one of the country’s largest landowners for them to do their version of farming.
I could do a guided tour of our diversification, with barns being given some TLC for the first time in 64 years, and maybe thrust a couple of books in her hands – perfect textbooks for when food production restarts.
I could take her – schedule permitting – to see our new tree plantations.
Even better, I could ask Mrs Drummond in person why she claimed in the local paper that 80% of our soils are dead.
(Attempts by email to fathom this somewhat hyperbolic statistic yielded nothing but a video link to her making the same claim in an almost empty Commons chamber.)
The man from Defra seemed delighted. All that would suit him down to the ground. He insisted that any walking was kept short – time was limited in the minister’s busy schedule.
That wouldn’t be a problem; it’s only a hundred yards to the ragwort, brome and thistle in Middle Broom – where once wheat grew – and then back via our new trees.
There was then silence for few days. On the eve of the visit, Defra man rang again. Had I heard anything? I told him I hadn’t. He said he’d ring back – his voice tinged with concern.
He was back on the line within the hour, explaining that there had been a bit of a cock-up.
Yes, the minister would be coming down to Hinton to meet with Mrs Drummond, but their hosts would be the new “land managers” – the National Trust. My input would not be needed, but he thanked me anyway.
I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t disappointed. I really thought for a moment that our minister was beginning to wake up to the realities and awkward consequences of food-free farming.
After all, there’s a lot of noise being made about food security at the moment, and the two concepts seem incompatible. Perhaps some words from an old-school farmer might have made the light dawn brighter.
But no; the ministerial party came and went without troubling our door.
Social meeja was soon awash with pictures of them enjoying the late July sunshine in the house’s gardens, with paragraphs of achingly woke, up-to-date farming buzzwords.
In the background, a recently baled hayfield, with not a single bit of ragwort to be seen. Funny that.