Rebirth Part 2: Working at a Farm Shop
From flogging flowers and planting pumpkins, to driving tractors and making friends with a 93 year old, here’s what it’s like working at a farm shop.
In this post I continue my quest for employment in the rural area of Garstang, Lancashire. I had tried my luck in countless other avenues in the village that hadn’t worked out. Now it was time for a new venture: working at a local farm shop.
What is it like working at a farm shop? What would I discover about my own country and culture after so many years abroad? What else was there to discover about rural life? And would this lead me closer to my dream of going back to the land?
Read on to find out 😉
Rural Education
The farm shop was located just a 5 minute cycle from the boat. On my first day, I donned my new uniform, a rather fetching, big black shapeless jumper, fleece and coat. This was to be my attire for the next four months.
Unflattering uniform aside, this was the perfect little job in the village. No stress or pressure, regular tea breaks complete with free biscuits and fruit. Duties included serving the customers and restocking the shelves. My colleagues were all lovely and felt like part of the extended family of the shop.
Soon enough, I started to feel part of the farm shop community. Many of the customers were farmers or retired farmers, mostly cattle and dairy. As I was packing up their shopping, I asked them questions about farming and showed an interest in the things they knew.
It certainly was a whole new world, being from the industrial, built up areas of Lancashire. I had grown up thinking I was from the countryside. Now I realise that having a ‘back field’ near your house cannot be classed as countryside! If there are no tractors driving around the roads, it ain’t country.
Interestingly enough, my maternal grandad, who died over 10 years ago, was a dairy farmer in Lancashire. This seemed to win some of these gruff farmers over, as they seemed to think of him as their colleague, asking what his name was and where he farmed. Talking with these people made me feel closer to this long lost root and more connected to my own rural heritage.
Food Heritage
I found chatting to the customers to be one of the biggest perks of the job. Some customers I got to know on first name terms, like Barbara and George, a lovely couple who were both farmers in their former lives. They shared their experience of growing up in the country and told me about the dances they helped to organise and how they grew up going to the community dance halls.
Now it all seems very old fashioned but I couldn’t help but sense that my generation has missed out on things from this almost forgotten past. The dances sounded like great wholesome healthy socialising in community. Where can I get that now without going down to the pub for a bad night of karaoke?
I soon realised that the older generation that I was serving in the shop belonged to an era and a culture that I had never experienced. They bought vegetables that I would never think of buying (turnips and cabbage for example).
“What are you going to do with this turnip?”, I’d ask. “How are you going to cook this cabbage?”. These were the old fashioned vegetables that are not at all trendy now, but used to be a core staple of the Lancashire diet, before we got most of our food from abroad.
They embodied old school Britain, the Britain that was before the influx of foreign foods such as pizza, pasta, chilli con carne and chicken tikka masala that have become the nation’s staple dinners. A Britain that is soon to disappear with the passing of this generation.
Part of this food heritage education also included getting some recipes from customers, such as Barbara’s ‘2, 4, 6 shortbread cookies’ (2 ounces of sugar, 4 ounces butter and 6 ounces of plain flour- a recipe that is in fact as old as the hills).
She told me that she had a book of recipes that had been passed down through her family that had notes written on from her grandma and great grandma.This is the kind of knowledge that has been lost in the modern generations.
I have grown up eating foods from around the world, which I continue to enjoy. But that’s not the food my ancestors grew up eating. I know how to make a chilli con carne but not a Yorkshire pudding. (It was only when I started to speak Spanish that I realised what chilli con carne actually meant: chilli with meat!)
Without realising it, could we be losing our own roots and our heritage by favouring the foreign foods over our own? These were some of the questions that I pondered as I went about restocking the bird seed.
Unlikely Friend
As well as learning about my own heritage, I also made a new friend whist working at the farm shop, 93 year old Marge. She would come in on her zimmer frame and get a few dog biscuits. Considering her advanced years, she was still full of mischief and had a sparkle in her eye.
One day she asked us if we were going to open a cafe, to which we responded that we were not, much to her disappointment (“you’d make a killing!”, she grumbled). Later, I saw her sitting on her zimmer in the polytunnel where we kept all the plants for sale. Her zimmer conveniently converted to a seat, which she took full advantage of in various locations of the shop.
Since she had been hankering after a cafe, I invited her to a coffee from the takeaway coffee machine. She accepted and thus began her weekly habit of coming to buy her dog biscuits, and sit in the polytunnel with a coffee.
I always made a habit of having a chat with her and seeing how she was. She told me about her life and about her past. (“What’s the secret to being so well at your age?” I asked. “Not being obsessed with men!”, she said. I’m still thinking about that one 😉 ).
A few times I saw her walking home so I stopped and got off my bike to accompany her. She talked about the friends she used to have (“I’m the last one left now”) and how she “misses her own company”, which I took to mean, the company of her own generation, of her own people that have long passed.
Bravery
Working at the farm shop meant working with the elderly population, as most of our customers were well over 65. This was an education. The level of vulnerability I witnessed truly humbled me.
I remember one elderly man confined to me that he was having an awful day. When I asked why, taking in his obvious distress, he said “my catheter has broken and I have pee pee all down my legs. It’s even in my socks”.
I tried to reassure him that worse things could happen and at least he could wash his socks. But inside I felt heartbroken at that level of vulnerability and discomfort. I wished that I could take the pain and embarrassment away from him.
Indeed, I found in this customer service role that so many people were struggling. One woman confided in me that she was struggling with her mental health and anxiety. Another elderly woman told me about her ill husband and how much it was taking its toll on her. She looked exhausted and in pain.
A retired farmer always told me about his problems with his legs, as he hobbled about the shop as best he could. Then there were the people who didn’t say anything but I could tell by how they used the shelves as support they were struggling to get around.
It struck me how much people just need to talk to someone. Once they sensed you were present with them and open, they just needed to off load about things that were bothering them. It became apparent to me how much loneliness there is in the world and how behind the curtains of everyday life, people are struggling.
My heart went out to all these people. Everyday people making a valiant effort to confront the day as best they could. I wanted to be able to do more for them other than bag up their food with a smile. It brought home the need for kindness in our day to day interactions, even with the grumpy ones. You never know what someone is dealing with or how in pain they are.
Frustration
In my bored moments, I wondered what had happened to my life. There was a time in Madrid when I loved my life there and felt a lot of purpose and satisfaction with my work. Now I was working at a job that I could have done when I was straight out of high school (indeed, some of my colleagues were only 16).
As much as I was enjoying getting to know the community, sometimes work at the farm shop got repetitive and boring. My days were filled with filling up the bird seed bags, or doing the same with the loose dog food bags, or the grass seed.
It was easy, simple and straightforward. But also totally mind numbing. Yet, I had said that I had wanted something practical and hands on and this was definitely that!
Such is life isn’t it? Just when you get what you think you wanted, the goal posts shift and you are no longer satisfied. Is this how progress occurs or just a product of our monkey mind never being satisfied? I tried to just enjoy the present and make the most of the company of my fellow colleagues and customers.
Then there were other moments where I looked at my life and felt pleased that I was finally doing a job that felt aligned with my passions and interests more. Riding a bike through the country lanes to get to work, tending to plants, working with my local community and then coming back home to my little boat on a picturesque marina wasn’t a bad life.
Especially when it was time to plant the pumpkin, squash and sunflower seeds. I got tasked with the job of planting the seeds ready for the summer months. It may have been repetitive but as far as I was concerned, I was being paid for something that I would do for fun!
Other perks included a tour of the chicken coop, and of course, no farm shop experience would be complete without being able to have a drive in the tractor! I was out in the fresh air listening to the birds, the wind and the cows. I had wanted to get off the boat and earn my money doing something more aligned with my vision of my life. This was exactly that, wasn’t it?
“This feels like the kind of thing I would have volunteered on the WWOOFing program to do when I was younger”, I thought on one lovely sunny day. “People would love to come and experience this lifestyle for a few weeks and work for free for the privilege!”. Indeed, it was a good lifestyle.
Flower Power
But I felt I had more to offer the world. I could do more than this. I had skills and knowledge that I wasn’t utilising, and this was frustrating. As a solution and a way to add a bit more interest to the job, I took it upon myself to make sure that all the fresh flowers sold.
It bothered me that at the end of the week so many were being thrown out. So I became The Flower Upseller of the farm shop. I dare say, dear reader, that had you come to visit me in the shop, then you would have come out with a bunch or even two!
“Want to throw in any fresh flowers?”, was my line. “Fresh in today!”. This was cause for quite a bit of banter between the staff. As one colleague said: “The way you say makes it seem that they would be stupid not to buy some!”
A few times I was jokingly referred to as ‘the flower pusher’, but it was all in good jest. As far as I was concerned, it was bringing some purpose and satisfaction to my day and bringing some beauty (and romance!) to people’s homes, and that was a good enough reason to do it.
Another thing that stuck me one day, as I was doing my restocking duties, was how it seemed that some of the dreams of a more beautiful world that I had when I started this blog, I was curiously helping to create.
In my first blog post I had written about the soul-less experience I was having in my local supermarkets and dreamt of a world where being food was a joy and a satisfying experience, even a community event.
Now I was working in a farm shop helping to bring the vision to life. This shop had a real community feel and a long history of local service. Old friends and neighbours would bump into each other there and spend 20 minutes chatting. Women would compare cooking tips and swap recipes.
A family of robins lived in the storage area and would brighten up everyone’s days by coming in and nibbling at the birds seed. Even a stray roaming pigeon attempted to make its home there before it moved on again.
As one customer said, “there’s a lot of beauty in this shop”. I knew exactly what she was talking about, and it wasn’t the displays. People came because they appreciated supporting local businesses and having a more local and personal shopping experience.
As my new friend Marge used to say, “This is a popping in shop. It’s the kind of place that you just come on for one thing and come out with ten other things as well”. (Including fresh flowers! 😉 ) It wasn’t just out in the fields that I was planting seeds, but inside the shop too.
Final Thoughts
Working at the farm shop was a great experience. It helped me get out and expand my world, get to know my own country again and meet some lovely people that are part of my local community. It was a great way to get back into my own culture and rediscover my own long forgotten heritage.
I got a small insight into what it is like to work the land and to keep chickens. I learnt about some the basics of gardening and learnt the names of different types of fresh flowers.
Just as with any new experience, when the novelty wears off, the mundane routine of things that can start to bring you down, so you have to look for ways to bring more interest, meaning and spark back in it.
Working at the farm shop, was a step towards my dreams of going back to the land, affirming my values and my path. Combining making a living with my dreams felt very aligned, even if it was just in a small way.
Alignment
One day, whilst I was in the polytunnel planting pumpkin seeds, a friend of mine who I happened to meet through this blog, messaged me. She had also recently made a big change to her life in pursuit of seeking a life that felt more aligned to her.
I sent her some pictures of what I was doing, and told her that my new life also felt aligned with who I am. She responded: “If it is aligned then there will be more to come”.
Something in that seemed to ring true for me. And indeed, she was right.
Stay tuned for the next update!
Exactly, if you are in authentic coherence, when something will be finished, the next will be better. Always keep the faith. Life love me and I love her. It´s very sutil and metaphisical credence, cause terrenal life is very hard too. It´s the sublime sense of living: to understand the paradoxes. Aceptation, adventures… and humor, please. I´m happy to see your improve and grow up. And, sorry if my english is not very correct. I wrote from Spain.