This is a subscriber-only article
One of the downsides of being a part-time farmer means you’ve limited time to get the jobs done. You have to be organised to within a minute of your life.
Every second Friday, from 10.30am to 11.30am, is the slot during which I write my Farmer Writes column.
Last Friday, however, I had to go to a funeral and so the usual agenda was thrown out the window. How dare that friend of mine from school die and be buried on a Friday morning.
I hadn’t seen Séan much since we left school, but it was nice to think back of the good old days as the priest – who didn’t know him – spoke during his funeral mass. Outside, I shook hands with his brothers and sisters, and that was it.
Then back to work.
Sandwiches and pints
Only family and the older attendees were heading over to the pub for sandwiches and maybe a few pints. In days gone by, all of us might have spent the day in the pub and marked the passing of a friend in a suitably respectful fashion.
Not these days though. We’re all rushing around too much trying to constantly become more efficient farmers.
Our current generation now feels put out when we have to take two hours off to attend a funeral
Séan’s funeral reminded me of my father’s too. They were a generation apart but kindred spirits. You’d know both had arrived in any room.
My father spent many the funeral day (and night) in the pub.
I used to think he wasn’t that interested in farming. It’s only now, nearly 20 years later, when my brother and I are trying to make a go of farming ourselves, that I realise how good a farmer my father actually was.
He just never let on. Nothing was a big deal to him.
Yet, I can see now that he had nearly everything set up as well as could be. He milked 50 cows, brought 70-odd calves to beef, set 20 acres of tillage and lambed 60 Suffolk-cross ewes. Plus he had a huge interest in horses and kept up to five thoroughbred mares at any one time.
Bamford baler
Before contractors got so big around here, he also baled square bales of hay and straw for other farmers in the area with his Bamford baler.
And somehow he still managed to find time to mark the passing of a neighbour or friend by taking time out to spend their funeral day (and night) in the pub with the deceased’s family.
Our current generation, myself included, now feel put out when we have to take two hours off to attend a funeral or other non-planned event.
If there’s a lesson in any of this, perhaps it’s that our funeral day will come too.
And no doubt, we’d like the mourners to pay appropriate respects. So, we should start by respecting ourselves: slow down, farm safely and spend the odd day in the pub.
Kieran Sullivan and his brother farm part-time in Co Waterford. You can follow him on Twitter: @kieran_sullivan
Read more from Kieran Sullivan
SHARING OPTIONS: