We came across these two in a museum in Volterra, in Tuscany. They are an Etruscan couple – a memory of a society that – as far as we can tell – valued women as equal partners with men.
The figures adorn a funerary casket and I thought this poem from the Dorset poet William Barnes, made a good match. It’s called Wife A lost and is written in dialect:
The Wife A-Lost
Since I noo mwore do zee your face,
Up stairs or down below,
I’ll zit me in the lwonesome place,
Where flat-bough’d beech do grow;
Below the beeches’ bough, my love,
Where you did never come,
An’ I don’t look to meet ye now,
As I do look at hwome.
Since you noo mwore be at my zide,
In walks in zummer het,
I’ll goo alwone where mist do ride,
Drough trees a-drippèn wet;
Below the rain-wet bough, my love,
Where you did never come,
An’ I don’t grieve to miss ye now,
As I do grieve at hwome.
Since now bezide my dinner-bwoard
Your vaice do never sound,
I’ll eat the bit I can avword,
A-vield upon the ground;
Below the darksome bough, my love,
Where you did never dine,
An’ I don’t grieve to miss ye now,
As I at hwome do pine.
Since I do miss your vaice an’ face
In prayer at eventide,
I’ll pray wi’ woone sad vaice vor grace
To goo where you do bide;
Above the tree an’ bough, my love,
Where you be gone avore,
An’ be a-waitèn vor me now,
To come vor evermwore.
My sister, a while ago, was telling me about the unreal demands her managers were making – insisting on ‘quality’ systems that only hindered an overworked and under resourced group of staff.
I came across this today and thought it might be a small comfort to know the Duke of Wellington suffered similarly.
I think bureaucracy could join death and taxes as one of the few certainties of life:
Whilst marching from Portugal to a position which commands the approach to Madrid and the French forces, my officers have been diligently complying with your requests which have been sent by H.M. ship from London to Lisbon and thence by dispatch to our headquarters.
We have enumerated our saddles, bridles, tents and tent poles, and all manner of sundry items for which His Majesty’s Government holds me accountable. I have dispatched reports on the character, wit, and spleen of every officer. Each item and every farthing has been accounted for, with two regrettable exceptions for which I beg your indulgence.
Unfortunately the sum of one shilling and ninepence remains unaccounted for in one infantry battalion’s petty cash and there has been a hideous confusion as to the number of jars of raspberry jam issued to one cavalry regiment during a sandstorm in western Spain. This reprehensible carelessness may be related to the pressure of circumstance, since we are war with France, a fact which may come as a surprise to you gentlemen in Whitehall.
This brings me to my present purpose, which is to request elucidation of my instructions from His Majesty’s Government so that I may better understand why I am dragging an army over these barren plains. I construe that perforce it must be one of two alternative duties, as given below. I shall pursue either one with the best of my ability, but I cannot do both:
1 To train an army of uniformed British clerks in Spain for the benefit of the accountants and copy-boys in London
2 To see to it that the forces of Napoleon are driven out of Spain.
Your most obedient servant,
On World Calligraphy Day (today, apparently) this seemed like a good post, all about the way that Google and Monotype have worked together to create a typeface – Noto – that can represent digitally every written language in the world. Some have never even been printed. It’s free too.
Google does good, I’d say. Nice to see Monotype still in the game too.
The sun is shining here – rare pleasure this August – and, sitting unwillingly at my desk, back to the window, I can hear children playing in the garden next door. The sound reminded me of this, from Burnt Norton:
Sudden in a shaft of sunlight
Even while the dust moves
There rises the hidden laughter
Of children in the foliage
Quick now, here, now, always-
Ridiculous the waste sad time
Stretching before and after.
I used to – occasionally – earn a few pounds fruit picking in Evesham where I grew up and you saw piece work all around you as well – women being collected in the morning to ride on trucks to the fields for bean or pea or potato picking. The smell of spring onions everywhere as families washed and tied bunches in their outhouses at home. So when you heard about British laziness and our reluctance to work on the land I’d often wonder when it started and where it had come from. This article makes a start at explaining why:
Farmers are used to looking into the future. Their livelihoods depend on taking a decent guess about everything from the weather to market forces. But a recent survey reveals that a new level of uncertainty looms on the horizon for post-Brexit farming in Britain.
Many in the survey said they were experiencing increased difficulty in recruiting seasonal workers since the EU referendum. Some suggested these labour shortages could result in a decrease in domestic food production followed by inflated prices of some produce caused by a total reliance on imports.
These shortages are not the result of any enforced changes in legislation, as Brexit negotiations have yet to be completed. This means that even if something like the Seasonal Agricultural Workers Scheme (SAWS) (which enabled a set quota of Eastern European workers to come and work on labour-short farms) is reintroduced, the industry might still be in hot water.
A lack of seasonal labour has long been an issue for British agriculture. Farms have sought workers from further afield as far back as the 14th century, when the industry relied on itinerant workers from Ireland. And while some British workers engaged in seasonal labour up until the end of the 20th century, their desire to do so appears to have waned dramatically – hence the current reliance on migrant workers.
Other reports of post-EU referendum labour shortages are indicative of things to come, as fewer migrant workers want to work in the UK. This has been attributed in part to the expectation of an unwelcome reception in Britain due to possible racism and xenophobia, as well as the economic impact of the fall in value of the pound.
To combat this the former environment secretary, Andrea Leadsom, suggested a return to land work for British youths, an idea met with derision by many. A parliamentary report also examined labour constraints in farming and suggested a long-term agenda of returning seasonal farm work to native British workers.
But the truth is, British people are highly unlikely to fill any positions left by migrant workers. It isn’t as simple as there being sufficient labour available in the UK to perform the work. The situation is far more complex.
The country commute
The entire working culture of the UK has transformed since British workers last filled seasonal farm work jobs to any significant extent. Rural communities have been transformed due to the “drift from the land” of locals, and people from cities moving to the country or buying second homes, pricing potential farm workers out of the local housing market.
As a result, physically able unemployed people are now less likely to live anywhere near the farms requiring workers. Transport systems in rural areas are limited, and basic, temporary housing is unlikely to attract people away from comfortable, permanent housing situated close to friends and family.
The current benefits system also deters the unemployed from engaging in any kind of seasonal work due to the inflexibility of signing on and off. Add this to the inconsistency of work availability itself, and there is little wonder why no compulsion exists to pick fruit.
Fruits of hard labour
The conditions of seasonal work – low pay, physically demanding, long and unsociable hours – do not help. They are far from the expectations of the typical British worker, who is now culturally tuned to a 40-hour Monday to Friday schedule. There is also a greater desire for career progression, which is unlikely to occur in the world of fruit picking. These expectations contrast starkly with how farmers perceive the work ethic of Eastern Europeans. It is from this gap that the “lazy” label has grown and been perpetuated by farmers and the media towards British workers.
But even if conditions and incentives of picking fruit and veg were improved, British workers would still be unlikely to perform it because of how this kind of work is perceived. Among other things, the task has become negatively associated with migrant workers and slave labour. Farmers have repeatedly tried to employ locals, with a drastically low rate of return, telling stories of few turning up for interviews and even fewer returning after just several days of work.
And while some gangmasters, who find and provide workers at very low rates, and land managers are guilty to some extent for embedding the cheap-labour cycle of migrant work within the industry, farmers have little power over price setting against the whim of supermarket control. This cost squeeze leaves many farmers with their hands tied in terms of increasing worker pay – the effect of which would be higher prices for the consumer (with whom some of the responsibility lies).
Without enormous adjustments to the benefits system, rural social housing, pay and conditions, the underlying culture and ideology surrounding seasonal farm labour, and transformations in consumer buying habits, a future without migrant workers does not look bright.
Mechanisation might one day be the answer, but due to the fragility of soft fruits, that is not yet feasible. Instead, without a quick solution, it is quite possible that Britain’s fruit farms are destined to follow the same sorry path already paved by dairy, where lack of profitability and debt has caused mass closure.
Afterthought: I may have the solution to this conundrum. How about, post-Brexit, we require second home owners to contribute a number of days work on the land as a the price of residency? It could work….