It’s hard to imagine falling asleep now without the gentle hum of the parlour and the mechanised voice recalling numbers of cows waiting patiently to be milked. But for the last ten weeks that’s the soundtrack that’s gently lulled me off to sleep - a world away from the hubbub and traffic that my usual life in Birmingham offers. I’ve been lucky enough to be on lockdown with my friends Karen and Tom at Halton Farms, which has meant combining my TV life with my love of the countryside.
It’s not totally new to me, I’m Cheshire born and bred and have grown up on the fringe of farming life - Dad, Grandad and my Great Grandpa were all well known agricultural engineers. My friends growing up were mostly farmers, I was a member of Young Farmers; but it wasn’t until Covid 19 struck that I ever milked a cow! I’ve been coming to Halton Farms near Congleton for years now, I’m lucky enough to count Kaz and Tom amongst my closest friends. I’ve watched them tackle falling milk prices with gusto, reinvent working practices to ensure ALL the animals here have the best life they can, and trailblaze their way to the top. But in all honesty - although I knew they worked hard - until I lived here I never realised how hard farming is. But it seems to be seeping under my skin - much like the mud under my once manicured nails!
Back in March, when talk in the BBC Midlands Today newsroom was about whether we’d go into lockdown I had a week of leave to take. Knowing that there was the potential of being locked in a flat in Birmingham for a week, Kaz invited me and my sighthound Brandy to stay - ten weeks later and we’re still here. And what a ten weeks it’s been.
Everything’s changed for me… even morning’s. I wake up with sunlight streaming through my window, the dawn chorus replacing the usual sound of my alarm clock. Before breakfast there are jobs to do - but not before starting the day right with one of Tom’s milky coffees. Everyone works really hard here so to have a few jobs based around the horses makes me feel useful. After mucking out (and if I’m honest - being waylaid playing with the calves) it’s breakfast time. Cooler days see big pots of steaming porridge, warmer weather brings fresh fruit and cereals. It’s a noisy affair… in-jokes, banter, talk of which new bit of equipment is being coveted by the boys, or serious talk of milk prices and Covid. But there’s a true sense of camradery - at a time when family is locked away, a new family found. More than that there’s normality here. The animals need feeding, the jobs need doing and life carries on. Red overalls and wellies back on, and it’s off to feed the cows, fix the fences or various other jobs. To get a true sense of what it’s like to live and work here I was offered a 4.30am start and a milking shift. Having been in parlours before I thought I knew what to expect…. But four hours and 500 cows udders later I’d had my eyes opened. I’d never really thought about it - but no two cows are the same. The team here love them, I quickly learned everyone has a favourite, but most of them can remember their numbers with just a glance. Another skilled learned… Dodging the poop!
The day job has continued, there have been trips down the M6 to the office in Birmingham, the city a desolate, locked up land. Technology has helped - there have been days I’ve been able to work from the farm. Every Friday I present the weather from the garden - the team of seven dogs becoming internet sensations with cameo appearances on the 6.30pm news. Around that I can ride the horses whenever I wish - taking full advantage of the quieter roads. I take the Springer Spaniel Belle running around the fields, soaking up the scenery, exploring parts of the farm I’ve never noticed before. One of the things I think Kaz and Tom would like for me to develop during this time, are cooking skills… the ability to craft a nice tea still alludes me, but maybe one day I’ll crack that! After a hard earned gin and tonic and debrief about the day it’s bed time. Earlier than usual for me, but it’s remarkable how quickly my body clock has changed. Tonight I stayed up though… not to drink Prosecco and zoom like my friends. No, it was my turn to make sure the chickens were safely in bed, they were - although herding the new rescued battery hens would have been quite funny to an observer!