“I remember baling hay out of cocks in that field,” said Mike reflectively to me as he waited in his car for his wife, Eileen, to finish her chores. Eileen is my mother’s home help and my mother’s bungalow overlooks a long, low-lying field.

It’s known locally as the Fans which is probably a variant of the English word “fen” meaning a peaty, poorly drained marshy area. It’s all of that, but we have always called it the Bottoms.

In the late 1960s, my late father drained the 40-acre Bottoms with clay pipes but the outfalls were marginal. It was only moderately successful. It was sown in spring barley in the early 1970s to level it up before being reseeded.

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There was a mighty crop of the finest thistles in the ripening barley, which was cut by a contractor. We didn’t have a combine then but we did have an old New Holland 268 baler whose knotters had an aversion to tying bales.

My father instructed my brother and I to bale the Bottoms and stack the bales in the weatherproof way with the knots facing down and out. Malone, an elderly farm workman, would give us a hand. Between a baler that was troublesome and the grim prospect of manhandling all the thistle-infested bales, we had other ideas.

Thistly bales and short trousers are an awful combination. Long trousers in those days were a rite of passage and we weren’t there yet. So we hatched a plan.

It was very hot weather and the straw was crackling dry. We’d accidentally light the straw and Malone, being a smoker, would willingly provide the matches. He’d say nothing.

The straw took off like an Australian bush fire and within an hour the field was completely black. There didn’t appear to be too much collateral damage. Or so we thought. But smoke continued to billow from the field long after the straw (and thistles) were burnt. The dry peaty soil had taken light and it continued to smoulder in pockets, down into the ground. Bits of bog oak added to the combustion and it burned on for weeks. I don’t recall my father’s reaction but, knowingly, he soon decided that it was time for us to graduate to long trousers.

In the millennium year, I planted the Bottoms with hardwoods, mostly ash. Growth rates have been good on the fertile peaty ground.

Last year, the first thinning was carried out with a harvester and forwarder and yielded a good supply of firewood-grade timber. Many of the trees are over 10m tall and I’m proud of what’s been achieved with limited use land.

Bean seed

Last autumn I saved some of our beans for use as seed. It would have been a cost saving and it was lovely small seed. We carefully dried a few tonnes down to 16.5%. I then had it tested by the Department for germination and the disease ascocytha. It was fine on both counts.

Before Christmas, I had a notification from the Department stating the seed sample had microscopic nematodes present and, as such, its use for seed was not recommended. These nematodes remain in the soil for up to 10 years and the yield loss with affected plants can be up to 50%. Since my beans were in virgin bean land, the nematodes obviously came in the English bean seed I sowed last spring.

The problem is that UK and Irish certified bean seed does not have to be nematode-free. But if buying bean seed you should try to get seed that’s guaranteed to be nematode-free.