I don’t think I can continue to grow oilseed rape. As a matter of fact, I don’t think I can continue to grow cereals anymore either, but I’ll deal with the rape first.

Establishing winter rape is beset with three problems, namely slugs, flea beetle and pigeons. It used to be easy to control the first two but pigeons have always been a problem.

However, the EU-banned Bayer’s Draza (methiocarb) slug pellets in 2015. Draza was extremely effective. Yes, there could be collateral damage but this was minimised with judicious use. Now, the only chemical slug killer available is the safer methaldehyde, which is hugely inferior. In fact, I think blue Smarties might even be more effective and the slugs have had a field day.

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But it’s a double whammy because the EU also banned the neonicotinoids in 2014, which were a very effective seed dressing to control cabbage stem flea beetle. Now there is no satisfactory control. Consequently, flea beetles have decimated our rape like a plague of locusts and entire plants bear the shot-holed leaves.

As a result, our rape crops look awful and are annoying me. The pigeons have also been relentless in their feeding and they prefer the variety PT234 as I would a ribeye steak. One field is so decimated it may not recover. But I’ve spent €125/acre on it already.

Consequently, the future for rape on this farm is becoming uncertain. Yes, I would miss the yield boost which it provides for the following wheat. But a rape-free rotation could place too great a dependency on erratic beans – as our only other non-cereal break crop. Besides, the bean market is easily saturated and pre-plant contracts are advisable.

As for continuing to grow cereals at the current market prices, this is also becoming increasingly non-viable. There are tentative signs that fertiliser will be back in price but it won’t be back by half enough.

Commissioner Hogan will have to get serious with the European fertiliser monopolies, which are blatantly obvious now with low energy prices.

The Persil challenge

Being a fashionable sort of farmer, I look to Alfco in Trim for most of my clothing requirements. For those of you from further afield, I should point out that Alfco is not a high-street gentleman’s outfitters. In fact, far from it – it’s a farm shop where you’ll get anything from a pair of socks to a fully automated endless rope scraper system. But if it’s ultra-tight skinny jeans you want or even a pair of red-soled killer heels for your wife’s birthday, you’ll have to look elsewhere.

With the change to colder weather, I had to dig out a few coats, all of which looked fine to me. Mrs P grimaced a bit at my choice but didn’t pass any comment as she rushed out to work. We’d already had a brief exchange earlier as I couldn’t find any clean work shirts but was told to wear a good one, which I did. But it wasn’t a good idea as the cufflinks kept catching in the net wrap and it soon became a filthy contender for the Persil challenge.

My son arrived home, Mi, tectatur, comniaturi consectem ditiam, veniendit, acepera nonsequiae odia sinient ant quam, nisita consequi seque sercidustius et harum quaest, tecae dolesti onsequam quo int as exeremporum dolupta es dendae aut isimi, ulparum velenda comniss itatios moditibus sunt mi, sum renis andunt ut ma aliqui occum volut accae sum ut que pro blame nempostiis expliquo tem conseriat prepro optaten derrum, simusam, aliquid elestorum rempe doluptae netur mos ea qui ne