A little article about OW
Two days after my Dad died, I was taking a mental break, and went climbing at a gym in Cambridge. Whilst I was there, an email popped up on my phone, from the editor at Farmer’s Weekly. He wanted to know whether I would consider writing a short tribute. My initial thought was no, not really interested. I continued climbing. The thought had now been planted however, and I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Within about 20 minutes, I decided to go home, else I risked bursting into tears half way up a boulder. On the journey back, of about 25 minutes, I mostly decided what I wanted to say, and just had to type it out when I got to my office. This is what I wrote - a slightly abridged [worse] version was published in Farmer’s Weekly shortly afterwards.
Sitting in the corner of the tiny pub was an old farmer, half a pint of warm beer in front of him. He was a friend of our host, who asked “Have you been watching that farming program on the telly?”. “Oh yes” he replied, “What a disgrace! It’s disgusting.”. It was the late ‘90s, and I was with my Dad, visiting a friend of his in the Highlands. His TV program Against the Grain had just finished airing, and it would be fair to say that the reaction amongst farmers was not universally positive. Our host continued, “And what would you do to that Oliver Walston if he walked into this pub right now?”. “Oh, I’d punch his lights out!” the old man replied. Our host - and I - found this hilarious. My Dad, very unusually for him, was the absolute definition of squirming embarrassment.
Back in those days, if someone asked me “Are you Oliver Walston’s son?”, the answer was usually “It depends who’s asking”. He had always been a controversial figure in farming, having hosted ITV’s Farming Diary for many years, most of them before I was born. He then switched onto radio, recording dozens of breakfast table interviews for BBC Radio 4’s Farming Today. This went on for several years, before being fired for (according to him) “being too posh”. Given that he sometimes described himself as having been born with a silver spoon in every orifice, I don’t think he could have argued too hard with the BBC’s reasoning.
As time went on, and particularly after he stepped out of the public eye in 2010 having suffered a severe stroke, other farmers’ opinions of him mellowed gradually. For the past decade, when outed as being his son, the reaction has been exclusively positive: Ahead of his time. Innovator. Forward thinking. Correct. These were the sort of words that people have used to describe him, with the benefit of hindsight. It’s a shame that he never really got to hear them in person.
Since I came back to the farm in 2010 - less than a year before his stroke - we had some interesting moments working together, just as happens in any family business. But I feel so lucky, and incredibly grateful, that soon he graciously stepped aside and let me take the farm in my own direction. I know not everyone has this privilege.
I’ll be running the grainstore this harvest, as usual, waiting to hear the distinctive sound of his G Wagen pulling up outside, followed 30 seconds later by “What’s the yield?”. This year, I think it will be good. I wish he could have been here to see it.