Farmer Writes: land ownership has been a touchy subject

It’s akin to asking a farmer about their sex life or how they deal with nighttime flatulence. You simply don’t ask this sort of question.

Well, not generally anyhow, except maybe in Bruno McCormick’s workshop where nothing is sacred or off-limits, particularly of a carnal or scatological nature (Google it).

Which is all great fun, but even in that irreverent company there is still one question you just don’t ask.

Recently I was at my daughter’s wedding in London and an Englishman bounced up to my brother-in-law Bill, to whom I was talking.

To refresh your memory – mine’s in meltdown – Bill is a Tyrone dairy farmer and yes, he’s the quintessential Massey/monkey wrench/Manitou type – but that’s fine. He’s still a nice fellow and Mrs P is his sister.

The eager and inquisitive Englishman asked Bill the unforgivable question that nobody asks and yet everybody wants to know – me included.

‘How many acres have you got then?’ He questioned, without so much as a grin. But English people are much more direct than we are.

The same fellow wouldn’t have had a clue about acres and one acre to him might be the size of an apartment balcony or all of Hyde Park.

I came to the flummoxed Bill’s rescue. ‘That’s not a question you ask an Irish farmer,’ I said to him, swaying gently with a pint of London Pride bitter in my hand.

I don’t even know how many acres Bill has. I never even asked Mrs P how many acres her dad had. I still don’t know.

Suitably rebuffed, he nodded and I added it’d be more subtle if he enquired how many robots Bill had. It’s the most PC way to gauge a (dairy) farm size.

I do know one six robot Irish dairy farmer and recently read in the red and yellow weekly farming magazine of a 12 robot English dairy farmer.

He probably has a robot running the farm and the rest of his life. But dairy robots meant absolutely nothing to the Englishman. The only robot he knew about was the one that mowed his ‘acres’ of lawn. In a London suburb? I bet.

In fairness, this Englishman was typical of his fellow countrymen. English farmers make no secret of their farm size and will tell you to the nearest 0.25 acre. You see it’s different there.

They may farm a thousand acres and live in a manor house, but as tenants since the Domesday Book and not own so much as one acre.

Whereas here if you confessed to owning a thousand good acres, you’re either a pig farmer or a distant member of the landed gentry who managed to hold onto the estate. (Just to put you at ease, I’m none of these but neither do I own a thousand acres.)

Touchy subject

Land ownership in Ireland has always been a touchy subject, and certainly one to avoid in an Irish pub after closing time.

You could end up on the wrong side very easily. But I think it’s good that such things are still private. It creates an air of intrigue in a farming world where there are few mysteries left.

However, nowadays the Department of Agriculture know absolutely everything about you, your farm and possibly your sex life as well.

But to leave the last word to Bill. He reminded me at the wedding that, many years ago, I was asked the very same question by a friend of his at a field day.

I apparently looked the nosey so-and-so straight in the eye and walked off. Do I remember it? Of course not.