Some years ago, when my family and I had a small farm in the Peak District, I was sitting on my swing seat enjoying the sun and the beautiful view from our garden. I had a cup of coffee, and all seemed well with the world. All of a sudden, two ramblers wearing T-shirts, shorts and sunglasses appeared at the stile which led from the field to my garden. To my astonishment, they climbed in.
‘What on earth do you think you’re doing?’ I shrieked. ‘This is my garden.’
‘Right to roam, innit, darlin’?’ they laughed as they rambled across my lawn and out towards the road.
I couldn’t believe it. Roaming across fields is one thing, but a private garden?
BBC Springwatch presenter Kate Humble challenged the Ramblers: Britain’s walking charity who believe in the ‘right to roam’
Jenni Murray reminds walkers that they need to close gates like this one in the Lake District to prevent livestock escaping from their fields
I was reminded of this when I read Kate Humble’s controversial comments at this year’s Hay Festival. The BBC Springwatch presenter, who specialises in wildlife, is a brave young woman for taking on the Ramblers: Britain’s walking charity. Dedicated to ‘removing barriers so everyone can enjoy walking in green spaces’, the Ramblers believe everyone has a right to roam wherever and whenever they choose.
Not so, says Kate: ‘I do think it’s enormously important that there are areas of the country where people are not allowed. We’ve all walked along footpaths or river banks or through urban parks and seen the rubbish that’s been left; frankly, the disrespectful way people treat the countryside.’
I could not agree more and I write from bitter personal experience in the Peak District. It is, in my view, the most beautiful of our national parks. Our garden was a good size, part of which was devoted to growing vegetables and fruit and the rest, surrounding the house, was purely for pleasure with the swing seat, flowering plants and an extensive lawn.
At the front of the house, there was a drive which was also a public footpath. There were barns round the back, a couple of stables and three entrances to a large field which sloped down to the river. One way into the field was a small stile from the garden through the dry-stone wall. Another stile was in front of the barns as was the big five-bar gate.
Jenni Murray tells how she was sitting on her swing when ramblers marched straight across her garden, and declared they had a ‘right to roam’
It was our responsibility to ensure the public stile was kept repaired and safe for any walkers. The grass in the field was beautifully mowed by our neighbour’s sheep. They had our permission to use our land for that purpose and we gave them extra space for their cows with young calves.
We dutifully carried out our responsibilities. The walls were kept in a good state of repair; nothing was allowed to run wild.
If only the hordes of walkers who turned up in droves at any hint of sunshine had had a similar sense of responsibility.
Every so often I would get a call from a neighbour across the valley. Would I please collect our two ponies? The only way those animals could have got out was because some fool, rather than climb the stile, had chosen to open the gate and then not bothered to close it. The horses had gone for a wander round the roads, putting themselves and any car driver at great risk.
Similar incidents took place frequently when the cows were in the field. They, too, would escape through the open gate and take themselves for a feast in our vegetable garden. Cows make a terrible mess where there’s cultivation.
Then, of course, there were the idiots who walked through the field when the calves were with their mothers. Gaily these ramblers would trot along oblivious to the risks they were taking. They’d have their dogs with them, off the lead.
I’ve watched from the bedroom window in horrified anticipation as they’ve scurried, terrified, trying to escape a herd of angry cows heading for them at speed.
For the owners of the land, it’s a nerve-racking time of year. Anyone hurt by a furious cow can claim compensation from the landowner. The farmers all around us talked about getting insurance, but for most it was too expensive.
Small scale farmers work incredibly hard for little financial return. If only the ramblers were aware that they’re walking through land that is not owned by wealthy aristocrats, but hard-pressed working people, maybe they’d be more thoughtful.
Then there was the Sunday morning when I walked down the slope to the bottom of our field, nearest the river. It looked as though there’d been a party. There were embers from an open fire. Empty bottles of wine and beer were scattered everywhere as were discarded crisp packets. Did no one think of the risks to the poor sheep if they stepped on a broken bottle or strangled themselves on a crisp packet?
I do have some sympathy for those who long to enjoy the countryside — I know what it’s like to be raised in Barnsley, Sheffield, Leeds or Manchester and long to get away from the dark industrial cities and into the fresh open air. But it is a supremely selfish act to assume a ‘right to roam’ means you can go anywhere and do whatever you please with no regard for the rights or needs of others.
I often wonder what would happen to me if I strolled into someone’s city garden and simply claimed a ‘right to roam!’ Death by a thousand curses, I suspect . . .
Mon Dior! Please don’t bring back suspenders
Actress Anya Taylor-Joy wore suspenders at the Dior Cruise fashion show in Scotland
Actress Anya Taylor-Joy chose suspenders to sit front row at the Dior Cruise fashion show in Scotland on Monday. In my early teens, tights were new and not many people had them. I had stockings and a suspender belt and what a faff they were to wear. I’d warn women against reviving them — even if they are Dior!
Rest at last for Cavalry runaways
Household Cavalry horses Quaker, left, and Vida making progress in their recovery after bolting through the streets of London in April
I was so upset in April at the sight of two beautiful Cavalry horses running terrified and bloodied through London. They’d been spooked by thoughtless builders dropping concrete from a great height. What a relief that Vida, the grey, and Quaker, the black stallion, are recovering well in pastures new in the Chilterns. It would appear they are the very best of friends. May they enjoy a safe and sunny summer holiday.
I shove my snails over the fence…
Snails have no place in Jenni Murray’s garden. She confesses to throwing them over the fence
Stepping very carefully in my garden at night, I try to avoid squashing any of the hundreds of snails and slugs that currently infest every inch of the patio. I don’t want to kill them. I asked a friend who knows about these things if English snails are edible. After all, I’d eaten them in France. ‘Don’t do it,’ she said, ‘they’re disgusting.’ So I confess I pick them up and pop them through the fence to my neighbours.
Skateboarding has been accepted in Northern Ireland as a topic for a GCSE in physical education
It was a bit of a surprise to learn that skateboarding, generally known as something of a wild subculture, has been accepted in Northern Ireland as a topic for study for a GCSE in physical education. Then I thought about the hours I’d spent among the graffiti in skate park after skate park when my sons were growing up, watching kids work harder than any Olympic gymnast to perfect their ollies, shuvits and drops without breaking their necks. I wish the best of luck to all entrants. Take care on those ramps!
Rob Burrow’s rugby league career ended with the diagnosis of motor neurone disease, but his friend Kevin Sinfield stood by him
Rob Burrow and Kevin Sinfield were teammates in the toughest of all sports, rugby league. Rob’s career ended with the diagnosis of motor neurone disease, but Kevin stood by him. It’s unusual to see two men in such a close, loving, physical relationship and I’ll never forget Kevin carrying Rob over the finish line at the London marathon, kissing him on the cheek and saying, ‘This is what friendship is for.’ It still brings a tear to my eye. Oh, that we should all have such friends.
