In mid-July I had just about managed to get a fresh coat of Sadolin onto the downstairs windows and doors when the first spat of rain hit my head. It reminded me that a few days earlier I had just sprayed a couple of fields with ‘Pastor’ when the same thing had happened. Come to think of it, there has not been much one could do this year without it being followed by rain.
I wish I could remember the names of those experts who appeared during February to tell us that the droughts of ancient Egypt would visit us this summer. They reminded me of those miserable folk who spent the nineteen seventies telling us that when it rained we should wear caps because we were likely to be hit by drops of acid. In fact, for each of the seven decades of my life I have listened to at least one expert telling us that, unless we repented our ways and lived according to their diktats life as we know it was going to end in twenty-four years. (Just about long enough for listeners to have forgotten what was said and who said it.)
Those readers who have read their history books will be sceptical of the prophets of doom and gloom. After all, such prophets are merely the modern equivalent of a continuum of disaster-mongers stretching back to the beginnings of recorded history. They have appeared in every civilisation and their ubiquitous presence makes me wonder why every generation seems to want to be frightened by a cataclysmic disaster. I also wonder as to which comes first; the Prophet of Doom or People’s need for a Disaster?
Each Prophet seems to have his own specialist topic which can range from the mega to the minor. Some may worry about a decline of a particular plant on Exmoor whilst others set their sights on the consequences of an asteroid hitting the earth. They all have one thing in common however; They and their followers all need money for ‘more research.’
Talking about prophecy and money reminds me of the prediction that has been doing the rounds within agricultural circles for some time. It is that the powers of retailing and their centralised processing factories will screw farmers who produce commodities (virtually anything grown in bulk) down to the point at which their sales price meets their production costs.
That point arrived for dairy farmers twelve years ago since which their numbers have dropped from 34570 to 14500. The remaining local producers are, as we write, getting about 26pltr for milk which costs 30pltr to produce. It doesn’t take much of a prophet therefore, to explain why farmers are quitting the industry, or why milk from cows kept in industrial factories located abroad and reconstituted milk from powder now dominates the shelves of our shops.
However, despite the problems visited on the countryside a recent survey by the Office of National Statistics (ONS) shows that people living and working in the countryside are the happiest in the nation. Top of the list are people working in agriculture, forestry and fishing. Next come people in mining, quarrying and real estate, followed by electricity and gas supply, water, sewerage and waste. Interestingly, people paid to cheer others up were not so happy whilst those in the arts were below even those in banking.
I don’t know if the survey shows a happiness reading for members of religious order such as Benedictines or Franciscans, but the following story suggests it could be positive:
Readers will know that Las Vegas is the gambling capital of the USA, but may not be aware that there are more Catholic Churches there than there are Casinos and that after Sunday Mass the collection always contains thousands of plastic gambling tokens. Accordingly the Churches have devised a system for swapping the tokens for cash.
It involves taking the chips to the local Benedictine Monastery where the black robed brothers sort the coloured discs by value and return them to the appropriate casino. This system satisfies everyone and helps create a happy atmosphere in which the Monastery has a key role.
Throughout the city the Abbot and his Brothers are affectionately known as
The Chip Monks.
View from the Pew 