28/08/2025
Like brother like sister, getting on like hand and blister.
When you meet someone for just a few minutes, you only catch a snapshot of their life. But sometimes that snapshot tells you everything you need to know.
Today I met a farmer who’d travelled all the way from Boroughbridge – miles from the North York Moors, maybe not even the same county – to help fight the fire on our moorland.
He hadn’t come alone. He was here with his boss, Phil, a man he clearly admired. In fact, he couldn’t stop praising Phil – his leadership, his decency, the way he looks out for his men.
The kind of boss, you could tell, who earns respect rather than demands it. Together, they’d left their own land, their own work, to come here. And why? Because, in his words:
“If there was a fire near my home, I know the farmers from here would come and help me.”
That’s what the farming community is. Not just neighbours, not just workers in the same industry – but a family, a lifeline, the backbone of our countryside. No questions asked, no time wasted, just action.
He didn’t even know when he’d be going home. Three or four days, he reckoned. As long as it took.
He spoke about the loneliness of farming – the long hours, the days out in the middle of nowhere. It can be tough. But he said one thing that stood out: that even when you feel alone in the fields, you’re never truly alone. Because the farming community will always be there. Always.
And today we saw that in action. Farmers dropping everything to protect the land, the wildlife, and the people who live here. No fanfare, no headlines – just grit, courage, and decency.
So let’s be absolutely clear: without farmers, our countryside doesn’t function. Without farmers, we don’t eat. Without farmers, we don’t have communities like ours at all. They are the first to step forward in a crisis, and often the last to be thanked.
Well, here’s the thanks.
From all of us.
To every farmer who showed up, and to the entire farming community – local and beyond – we salute you. Heroes in wellies.
