Ah yes
Ah yes

Pack your bag and go get your Mamiya Maria, we’re going to shoot some farm porn and sure enough we do. Adam emails that he wants some juicy hi-def large format shots of rural life, real rural life. Filthy. Down the road at the organic farm we get stuck in with the farmers who welcome our suggestion with open arms. They are really keen on our suggestion to let out their spare rooms for Green Gym tourism or at least guests who might do more than gawp at the landscape and might get involved, take an interest and have a decent, civilised relationship with the place.

The farm is a Hugh Fearnley Oliver wet dream, immaculate rows of organic veg, happy chickens and a completely efficient, self sufficient system even down the gas from the human compost being used to power the wok burner. Prince Charles would love this. Duchy Originals Methane?

They give us tea and feed us nuts and then move on to Mie Ju or winey sweet rice with a fried egg. Which is rather nice. Having plied us with booze-rice, they offer us dinner, which we don’t have time for and instead agree for us to return for dinner next week on the condition that we work on the farm for the day. Additionally we offer to dress one of their spare rooms in a way that will attract Sino-Jamie Oliver fans or the like, which she is delighted about.

But the purpose of the farm shots will to help sell this idea, but there is a tinge of panic that we may be sending them down the road of Lakeland Tourist Misery. I try to explain this one through which is hard in the face of such enthusiasm for new ideas, but hopefully we’ll be able steer them more towards Ruskinian mind gym than shit farmhouse b&b. Let’s take them to Cumbria as a warning.


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