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This damned coronavirus is changing our lives in all sorts of subtle ways. Some of these changes may be for the better and remain with us post-COVID-19, while others we may gladly banish with the virus.
Take funerals for example. My brother Thomas, as an auctioneer, is a serial funeral goer. I haven’t asked him – because he’d probably exaggerate – but I’d say it’d be a bad week if he didn’t go to at least three. It goes with the job. You can’t expect to sell or let Joe Bloggs’ farm if you weren’t seen at his mother’s (or his aunty Biddy’s) funeral 10 years ago.
He’s going to have to wait until normality is restored but maybe funerals may never return to their pre-COVID importance
Now, of course, funerals are off-limits for all but the immediate family and Thomas is in cold turkey and dying for a good funeral fix. He’s going to have to wait until normality is restored but maybe funerals may never return to their pre-COVID importance.
The coronavirus has changed Sundays as well. With the churches closed – and everything else as well – Sunday is no longer that little bit special and has become just like any other day of the week.
Bring back proper Sundays, and soon
I’m tempted to carry on spreading fertiliser because it’s that or sit in the garden and read Classic Tractor and watch Mrs P edging. You can’t even read the Sunday papers because they’re too gloomy and neither can you go for a sunny Sunday topless drive. Bring back proper Sundays, and soon. Otherwise I’ll end up gardening.
The livestock markets are currently changing in a way that just might be permanent. The online cattle auction is the buzzword whereby you can watch the auction live on your phone and bid from the tractor if you like what you see. And your neighbour won’t know that you’re bidding against them, which is a welcome positive.
Marts are traditionally a very social – if not intimate – place
I wouldn’t like to think that all the social interaction of the mart is gone forever but greater changes have happened. And marts are traditionally a very social – if not intimate – place. Standing ringside, you’re very likely to have another buyer cordially throw his arm across your shoulders or whisper in your ear. Sweet nothings? Nah, more likely, “I fancy this one”.
And you can eat a proper dinner piled high in the canteen with half a pound of butter on the spuds with nobody counting calories, washed down with a cool can of Coke.
It’s in times like this we farmers come to appreciate how fortunate we are in our work
Working from home (as in office work, as opposed to farming) is apparently more feasible than many people thought. It may become the new norm for a significant percentage of the workforce with all sorts of resultant advantages. But rural broadband will have to improve.
It’s only now that we fully appreciate it
Farming is perhaps the ultimate in working from home. It’s in times like this we farmers come to appreciate how fortunate we are in our work. Social distancing is not an issue and unlimited fresh air and immersion in nature is such a bonus. It’s only now that we fully appreciate it. And we’ll forever associate the lockdown with the brilliantly fine weather. That’ll probably change too when Leo pronounces we’re free again.
As for social interaction, I miss it greatly. I miss the one-on-one craic and it’s now too easy to become introspective. Besides, I can’t hear half of what people are saying to me when they’re two metres away, never mind with a tractor running. Maybe it’s just as well.
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