First of the non-farmers

My mother was born on a Cornish farm that was run by her parents and grandparents. And her family - the Dawes and Olvers - were farmers before that. 

So I guess that the countryside is woven into my DNA.

My Mum spent her childhood and teen years working on the farm, along with my late uncle Brian and some evacuee brothers who ended up staying for the duration as their parents were killed. 

But then, some time in the 1950s, my Gramp had a stroke of genius and invented a form of muckspreader, for which he sold the patent. We never found out how well he did from it but he gave up farming and bought a posh townhouse complete with a huge basement and an even bigger cellar that I used to love exploring. 

Thankfully, before they left the farm, they took plenty of photos on the family Box Brownie.

Of course, what this means is that my brothers and I are the first generation of my Mum's family that aren't farmers. In some ways this makes me very sad. But, on the other, it has to be said that it's a bloody hard life and it doesn't produce the rewards and the job satisfaction that it used to.

So,here I am - the first of the non-farmers - in a 1961 photo that shows four generations of my family - me, my mum, my two sets of grandparents and my great grandfather.

My gramp (the dapper chap in the cravat above left), meanwhile, got a bit bored. Early retirement always seems like a nice idea but people do need purpose for a good quality of life. And besides, I reckon he missed being part of the farming community. 

So he took a job with Unigate Dairies, collecting milk churns from local farms and being able, once again, to mix with his friends and former colleagues. He even took me out on a round or two when I was young. 

I'm not sure that I enjoyed it, mind.

However, one thing that Gramp was content with was Mother's choice of a husband. 

My Dad was very much a countryman and he and Gramp would spend hours shooting, fishing and dragging me and my brothers along for long country walks. 

Afterwards, we got to help display all of the dead things for the camera before they went in the pot. Yes, that's me in the third photo with what looks like a dead woodcock. Or maybe a snipe. Which, if you didn't know is where we get the term 'sniper' from. The bird flies fast and erratically and you need to be a very good shot to bag one. Both my Dad and Gramp were snipers.

You might be pleased to hear that the only shooting I do these days is with a camera. Things were tougher in my childhood and hunting and fishing were a necessary part of life - it's where we obtained most of our protein. My staples as a kid were rabbit, pigeon, wild mushrooms, crab, mussels and mackerel with the occasional pheasant or sea bass. It sounds posh but these things were considered paupers' food back then. How times have changed.

But perhaps now you'll understand why I love being outdoors, no matter what the weather. To be among trees and wildflowers, and surrounded by wildlife is my idea of Heaven. It's in my blood and my bones. Walking in Nature is something I've done my whole life, despite a 30 year career in London. Even there I would find the open spaces - London is actually a very green city with many parks and canals and woods in the outer boroughs. It's good for you, and not just because of the fresh air - it genuinely relieves stress, calms your mind, lowers your blood pressure and increases your resistance to illness. That's not woo-woo - these are all measurable effects and are catalogued in a great many scientific papers. We need to be connected to Nature and not separated from it. Why do you think we desire pets? Or even cuddly animal toys?

I moved out of London over 20 years ago and I now live on the Chiltern Hills. It's beautiful here but I do miss the sea so, in a few years, I'll probably head back towards the South West and the places of my childhood.

Just remind me to never dress like this again.

It was de rigueur in 1983, honest.