Dad would have loved my kitchen table
Paula Hynes. Picture: Denis Minihane.
The kitchen table of any farm is like the nerve centre of the operation when decisions get made, bills get paid over a cuppa, contractors get fed, a place where the highlights get celebrated, and the problems of the low points get shared.
When we moved into our new house a few years ago, I was adamant I would have a big kitchen table, so that was my big spend at the time.
It’s a solid oak table that sits 12 people at ease. This was the first Christmas the kitchen table has seen a high stocking rate as my sister and her partner were down from Dublin for a few days, and we were also joined by my other sister for Christmas dinner.
My sister's partner works in hospitality; his friends call him 'Mr Five Star' because he never gets his hands dirty, so with his pedicure hands, he decided to swap his suit for wellies and overalls on Christmas morning and took to milking cows like a pro.
It’s always nice to give people an insight into what farm life is like, and he was in his glory filling all his buddies in on his farming adventure when he returned home.
They say men can’t multitask, but in fairness, my husband Pete gives it a good bash; he had the turkey in the oven before morning milking, so it was cooked, and the oven was free for the ham to bake before he went diet feeding and evening milking with me.
A farm never stops regardless of the day, the weather or any event; the show must go on and animals need to be fed and cared for.
I always look back to when my dad died in December 2019; he suffered a heart attack while on the way home from a removal and crashed the car on a rural road. It was a frosty night; we were at Georgie's school play and on returning home, I knew my dad should have been home.
We spent the night in separate vehicles searching rural roads for him, as roads deteriorated with ice, Pete told me to wait at my dad's house whilst he continued in the farm jeep as he knew with four-wheel drive he could handle the tricky roads.
Eventually, the dreaded phone call came; he had found my dad and waited in the isolated location for emergency services. He arrived home at 5:30 that morning and we had an hour together before we headed off to milk cows. It took all I had that morning to go and feed all the animals and milk the cows after losing my best friend and my hero, but deep down, I know that's exactly what he would have wanted me to do.
Those are the life lessons farming teaches you: don’t give up no matter how bad the weather or how tough the situation and when you have had the toughest of days or nights, there is still an animal relying on you to milk it or feed it.
Along with getting the farming chores completed on Christmas morning, I now visit my mom and dad in the graveyard; it’s never easy as I miss them every day. My dad gave me my love for animals from a young age, took me to all the shows with my ponies when I was young and in his later years, he got to see my daughters begin their show careers.
He would have grinned with pride seeing the success they have over the last year; I like to think he was with them at every show this year in spirit.
He would have loved my kitchen table, the trophy cabinet in the corner, walls adorned with pictures of past shows & the success the girls have had, a cup of tea in one hand as he would read the from cover to cover - no doubt I'd get detailed questions following reading my article on a Thursday.
He wasn’t a man for flying, although he did love to drive the length and breadth of the country; my mom used to curse him for not going on a foreign holiday with her. She loved to travel, and if she was still alive, she would definitely have been Becky's travel buddy heading to Australia, but I reckon the thought of grandchildren competing at shows in the UK would have tempted him to brave an airplane this year.
Mom would have had the full show season written in her diary, she would have little extended holidays planned to coincide with shows and while we would head home with heifers, more than likely, she would have commandeered Georgie to accompany her on the following day's holidays.
Christmas is a time of missing loved ones whilst also celebrating with those who are still with us. With the animals all cared for, it was nice to sit down at a busy table on Christmas night, crackers popping, prosecco glasses clinking, and plates brimming with turkey, ham and stuffing until, eventually, we were bloated like a herd of cows that had broken into a lush wet clover paddock.
With the dishwasher loaded, people were struggling to move from the seats at the table, so the girls grabbed their opportunity and produced Monopoly, wine glasses were topped up and the nerve centre of my farm was quickly transformed into party central.
As the room filled with laughter, rolls of the dice and cash exchanging hands, I thought to myself, wouldn’t a farming version of Monopoly be a great way to give people an insight into farming, rolling the dice, picking up a Chance card which read, “ACRES payment delayed, miss a turn” or a COMMUNITY CHEST card that read, “Drought forecast, pay 1000”, instead of airports there could be marts and instead of streets there could be farms, small, big, good land, wet land.
Could Farm Monopoly be the number 1 board game for Christmas 2024? I'll surely be entitled to a few quid in commission if it hits the shelves!
In the meantime, it is time for me to start rolling the dice again and take one step forward at a time in preparation for calving season, sheds and pens need to be disinfected to ensure everything is ready for new life to arrive on the farm.
We got a wonderful phone call this week from a woman who buys calves from us every year. Like me getting organised for the year ahead, so is she by placing her order for beef calves now so she'll get first refusal on any beef bulls born.
It is always nice to have returning customers, knowing the calves we produced the previous season thrived well after a healthy start on-farm.
