Like a Virgin ...

“My name’s Michael, thanks for coming .... you know you guys will always be special to me [cue slight unease in small group of complete strangers, straight off a mini bus from Aberdeenshire] .... I was a farm visit virgin ... and I’ve lost my virginity to you ... [cue unintentional but creepy smile from Michael].”

Some things sound a lot better in your head before departing from your brain, stopping briefly at your vocal cords then finding their final destination in a vast lonely expanse of open air and in the tangible discomfort of fellow human beings.

It was the first time I had a group come and see the sheep though.  I spent most of the time saying they weren't very good, even though I think they are.  I talked for over an hour about the sheep, how I started, what I do, what I feel and about the people I met during my Nuffield trips.  The Nuffield part of it might have been forty minutes of blether but it had to summarise eight and a half weeks of travel.  It focuses your mind on what the main issues have been.  Obviously, I admitted in front of grown men (and women) that I almost cried speaking to other grown men (and women) about Cambodia.  I then proceeded to get a bit emotional about it all over again.  That country gets me going every time.

No one fell asleep this time. Largely because they all had to stand ... in the cold ... 

Notes to Self: 

1. Pursue mild forms of enforced discomfort on any future audiences to prevent them snoring
2. Man up re. Cambodia, for goodness sake!!

The Free Radical ...

Last Monday lunchtime. Hendersons Salad Bar, Hanover Street, Edinburgh.

I am here to meet a real, live author ... one that writes books an’ that using actual words, some of which exceed my psychological barrier of 10 letters. 

I bought Andy Wightman’s book “Who Owns Scotland” in 1996, when I was still a Land Agent.  It pointed out an injustice of so much of this country being owned by so few of its inhabitants.  As a Land Agent, I acted mainly for land owners and companies with amazing powers of compulsory purchase.  Most of my clients were lovely, good people but there was always a feeling that I was playing for the wrong side.  I worked hard in training, at the end of the day I gave it 110%, without a shadow of a doubt ... but I took their money to help them make more of what they already had ... and there was always a slight guilt to it.  

Andy Wightman - author who knows some big words

Andy seems far more principled.  Injustice seems his defining motivation.  He has been described as Scotland’s leading Land Reform activist. There is a twinkle in his eye when he describes situations where he has publicly pointed out an inequity and an unfairness.  He seems to do this with a clarity that reveals something obviously unjust to those blinded by either the complexity and confusion of the subject matter or burdened by vested interest and extreme passion for their own position.

Anyway, back to the Salad Bar.  Andy orders the biggest “croquet” I have ever seen ... in my mind the rules on croquets centre on the assumption that a proper one can’t be more than 5 cm long ... this one smashes this rule by at least two fold.  I have a big crepe ... (a joke I really enjoyed when I was 8 and still find amusing today).

I had bought Andy’s new book “The Poor had no Lawyers”. I had got to page 42 by Monday and - in a panic, not wanting to appear ignorant - also read half a chapter on subsidy. The book sits in the bathroom where I can read it during my “quiet times” ... I quickly realise I should have had more “quiet times” before I met him.

We talk about inheritance.  There should be a law that land is transfered equally to all children in a family, not just one. Land would then be in the hands of more people and the land monopoly we have would be broken. We talk about Land Value Tax.  This would introduce a basic fairness to taxation and eliminate the excessive values of land and homes - that sees loss-making dairy farms in the west of Scotland selling for over £1 million.  Why should all rural businesses pay business rates other than landowners?  Andy tells of a method of redistribution of land in the Netherlands where a group of owners who feel their land holding is becoming fragmented put their satellite units into a pot and swap them for somewhere nearer ... the fact this would not happen here, says a huge amount about the land culture we live in.

I enjoy our chat ... and my big crepe.  I notice Andy has a freedom in his opinions. He doesn’t mind challenging perceived “wisdom” on land issues and the aggressive negativity that sometimes comes with such a challenge.  Rather he seems to revel in it.  As we leave he talks of some gifted individuals ... who can’t express what they really feel because they are employed by companies with vested interests.  I realise I’m in a privileged position ... as my own boss, I have a certain freedom already ... even amongst the constant craving for cash, it is this overarching freedom that makes it worthwhile. 

Back at the house, I read more of the book.  It has some really interesting stuff in it.  The history of how land was effectively stolen, grabbed or taken.  How tenanted farms represented 69% of holdings in 1940 and 28% of holdings in 2008.  How 20% of the Single Farm Payment in Scotland is recieved by just 2.77% of farmers ... almost a third of the budget being given to just over 5%.  He quotes Winston Churchill and Adam Smith to support his case. 

It makes me think ... I seem to have been buffeted by divergent and very strong opinions all the way through this Nuffield study ... I bend with this wind, listen to everyone and see all the points of view.  Quite often it seems, I don’t have my own voice ... or maybe its having a fear to let it make a noise.  It would be easier if it were black and white ... if people were entirely wrong or entirely right.  Andy appears to use justice as a benchmark and fairness as a gauge ... that’s not a bad start on the long and winding road toward clarity. 

Dying is Easy, Public Speaking is Hard ...

Despite what the most recent blog posts suggest, I’ve been back in the country for a month ... I’m just really slow at constructing sentences and thinking about words containing more than four letters.  My brain speed seems to be constantly in first in the low ratio gearbox (or whatever that smaller stick next to the bigger stick in my pickup is called).

Imagine then, my discomfort when I had to speak at a Scottish Enterprise Rural Networking Event in Ayr on Tuesday.  Talking out loud has never been a strength of mine.  Putting a lot of words together in the right order over a 30 minute period is hard ... and harder still when 24 people are looking at me with total bewilderment in their eyes and 1 is fast asleep.  Talking in public requires a fast and sharp brain ... no luck there then.

I got a few laughs but not nearly as many as I'd hoped ... I should have brought a snare drum and symbol to communicate what I just said was intended to be amusing.

Embarrassing highlights included: reading out lyrics from a Mylie Cyrus song (the bewilderment factor was raised at least three notches during that error of judgement) and almost crying when I talked about Cambodia ... voice quiver ... dramatic pause ... it was really close.  I talked about emotion a lot, and bared my soul a little ... to the point I expect most of the audience were uncomfortable and thinking I should really go and see Dr Bonkers (the famed Psycho-analyst).

That said there were some things I said that had potential.  It focused me.  Oddly I appreciated so much more of what I had learnt in India and Cambodia during the process of speaking in Ayr.  If I came back from those countries with one word it would be “Innovation” ... although this is neck and neck with “Perspective” and “Sorry”.

I still need a lot of practice in speaking out loud though .... a LOT of practice.

[in the style of the Batman theme] da na na na na na na na - Hat Man! ...

In my last post I briefly mentioned a chance meeting with an elderly man who wore a hat ... on a plane ... who sang songs in public.  I also mentioned that the Raipur leg was my nominal contribution to the organisation of the trip.  The first day went well ... largely because Ricky Thaper organised it ... not me.  

Day 2 proves more of a challenge.  There is nothing arranged. In desperation to please my restless colleagues, I phone Hat Man on Day 1.  He is in “a meeting” and says he’ll phone me back ... he doesn’t ... I berate myself for thinking he might.  Next day ... a lie in, a relaxed breakfast, we get to 11.30 and no one has complained directly about doing nothing but there is an undeniable air of frustration.  We try to take a rickshaw to a Walmart to see what an Indian supermarket looks like.  The non-English speaking rickshaw driver reckons I must have meant the centre of town and takes a punt, leaving us lost in a busy street ... nowhere near a Walmart.  

Just as all hope of not wandering around aimlessly is at an end ... Hat-Man phones.  He has been to our hotel with his brother - head of the agricultural department of Chattisgarh.  His brother has had to leave for a “meeting” but we head for his office. Raipur is a big city ... we are the only westerners ... as we start the goose chase, people stare, smile and wave.  We enjoy our adventure ... at least, I do.  I smile and wave and even do the “thumbs up” more than is technically cool, as we walk.  

After asking at least five times for directions we get to the office.  Hat Man is actually called Mr Poorit and he is high up in a renewable energy company (Tony likes renewables so he is pleased).  Mr Poorit is a character.  A former colonel in the Indian army, a veteran of three wars he possesses a personal wisdom that comes from a very full life.  I love old men like Mr Poorit. He is excentric, mischievous and warm ... what I want to be when I’m old. I feel we click and have an odd bromance for 20 whole minutes.

Tony, me and Mr Poorit ... in the final of the "Funniest Face" competition.
Above Tony's head there is a picture.  It says "... for everything you gain; you lose something else; it is about your outlook towards it; you can either regret ... or rejoice".  Deep! 

He tells us that Indians are misers, they are real business men and ... in a Borat type moment - they are “like the Jew”.  Britishers are nice but they are not financially as bright as Indians.  Mahatma Gandhi was a good guy but his policy of non-violence was wrong. If someone hits you, you hit them back harder.  I loved it ... not because I agreed with everything but just because his opinions were definite and devoid of malice (though I suppose hitting people isn't that nice).

We finish by singing a Doris Day song in the middle of a busy office... “Que Sera, Sera, ...Whatever will be, will be ... The future's not ours, to see ... Que Sera, Sera ...”  Given my midlife crisis and my palm reading that shows I have no life line from now on ... I consider this appropriate.  We shake hands, knowing we got on well, but knowing we will never see each other again.  I am emotional about our farewell, which I wasn’t expecting.  Goodbye Mr Poorit ... the honour was all mine.