Yesterday I went to a meeting to learn about a whole raft of new agricultural regulations. We were shown around a two-thousand acre estate, my few hundred acres seemed very insignificant and the legislation talked about, large and frightening. Everything seemed to be verboten and penalty-laden. Somewhere deep within Whitehall, there must be a group of very angry regulators who have never seen the light of day, let alone a farm, whose sole aim is to destroy small farms…

Regulation, regulation, regulation,
Will be the death of me.
There’ll be no time to grow a crop,
Desk-bound I will be.
I know there have to be some rules,
This I understand,
But the latest tranche from DEFRA,
Have surely got out of hand.
I look back with idle longing,
To a time some years ago,
When the purpose of my job,
Was simply reap and sow!

© Baldock Bard 2014
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