The life of a farmer

Miss Julia White, horsewoman, sailor, farmer and haunter of my own farming life (such as it isn’t) first appeared in my life when I was 17, trying to get myself to agricultural college. Or was it when

Could it be all change at the charity shop?

An old man lives at the bottom of my garden. His name is Robert Barkus, or Bakehouse, or Bagust. Nobody is quite sure. But I often sense him around when I’m gardening, and I’ve found out a fair bit ab

Giant leeks and pumpkins the size of a small car can give impression that there is something slightly comical about competitive fruit and vegetable growing. But those who take part in this cherished B

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