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My uncle with two of his geese |
One of the blogs that I read from time to time is called
Gentle Otter. The author is a 51 year
old farmer’s wife, the mother of three children aged 28, 15 and 4 who lives and
works on her husband’s remote farm in rural Perthshire, Scotland where they
have a sheep herd as well as ducks and chickens. You might wonder why this
particular blog interests me. My parents had a classic World War 2 story where
she was in the British Air force and my father from this side of the pond was
serving in the air force in England. They
met during the Battle of Britain. I
lived on my uncle’s farm in the Yorkshire Dales not far from Haworth where the
Bronte parsonage is located when I was a boy. He had a goat herd, geese and chickens
so I have a pretty good idea of her (the farm at the back of beyond) lifestyle.
I remember that I had fresh goat cheese, milk and butter for part of my meals. Also my great grandmother was a Ferguson and two weeks ago I went to my cousin’s
daughter’s wedding reception which was very Scottish as you can see from my
post on the event.
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Me (long hair version) and one of the goats |
Like most farmers in rural Scotland they are tenant farmers
who rent the land from a landowner or laird. Her husband’s family have been tenants
for 120 years and it may seem strange to North Americans but Scotland is still
a feudal land in many ways. The roof of the 1800 house is in disrepair and
needs replacing but the landowner after years of requests has always refused to
fix it. On Monday of this week a member of the local county council informed
them that a demolition order for the house had been given.
Once the demolition noticed was served, we would have 28
days to get out. After the 28 days, we would be put into a B&B, probably in
Perth. The children may be removed to 'a place of safety', if we were to
inhabit our farmhouse. Our farmhouse which we pay rent and full council tax
for. Our farmhouse with the polluted water supply which we cannot purify due to
the landowner demand that our electricity supply be disconnected. Our farmhouse and our home.
This is a modern day form of the Scottish Clearances. Like
the Afro-Americans in the ninth ward of New Orleans, they are the forgotten
ones. The best comment is in her words:
We are the people who you never hear about and we are merely
a drop in the ocean. We are many. Others will hopefully learn about our way of life and the culture we contribute
to. I hope that it can provide other tenant farmers a platform to stand on and
voice how they feel, how they live and how they are treated. I don't want people to feel scared. Not in
21st Century Scotland.
I want to hold my hand out to them and say "It's ok, you are not alone.
Others care deeply for you even although you cannot see them. Take my hand
because I am not scared'.
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The Yorkshire Dales Farm |
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Another view of the farm |
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My Aunt and Uncle in the Farmhouse |
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Bronte parsonage in Haworth |
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