If I voiced my objections publically or even privately, sent intimidating messages or physically assaulted those I disapprove of, I would without doubt face prosecution and possibly be locked up.
However, those threatening fellow livestock farmers, abattoir owners, butchers, or even radio presenters who dare to eat a ham and cheese sandwich in their presence, appear to be getting away scot free with their insults and threatening behaviour.
As Christopher Hart in the Daily Mail reports, anyone who dares to question or oppose the aggressive protest groups which are demanding that 98% of society change our attitude towards farming, or what we eat, to accommodate the wishes of around 2% of the population, are abused and threatened with violence.
Since when has such behaviour, which is not just confined to vegan demonstrators, become acceptable? It appears the Home Secretary and the authorities are turning a blind eye to these minority groups and individuals who shout loudest. This is political correctness gone mad.
How dare the likes of Mr Armstrong, an Australian militant vegan activist, who is touring the UK stirring up trouble and suggesting it would be a good thing for farmers to be trampled by their cows, and their children hurt, go unchallenged? Why on earth has the man not been deported, and his ignorant mob of followers, many of whom choose to hide their faces behind balaclavas, better to intimidate, not been locked up or at the very least fined for affray? This aggressive culture is out of control, someone needs to get a grip.
It is with sadness we heard of the recent deaths of two great characters, who brought stories of very different country living into our lives.
Hannah Hauxwell spent her entire life on her farm in a remote corner of the Yorkshire Dales. Since 1961 she had farmed the 80 acres of land single handed.
Her story was broadcast 45 years ago, and subsequent series about her rare trips away from the farm, and books followed.
Miss Hauxwell seldom saw anyone for weeks on end. She faced long harsh winters which she hated, and said ‘came too soon and stayed too long’, without electricity and running water. She often snuggled up to her favourite cow for warmth on freezing nights.
She earned from her toils on the farm an average of £280 a year, from selling a steer and renting some land to a neighbour. Thus giving her £5 to buy bread, milk, eggs, and one tin of spam each week.
When the TV documentary was aired in the 1970s people were stunned by this remarkable woman’s personality and resolve. Perhaps now is the time to relaunch; a fitting memorial to this extraordinary lady.
The other recent loss is Peter Mayle, the author of many amusing books, recording with light-heartedness and humour his life in Provence, where he moved with his wife Jennie.
I recall with mischievous pleasure a story which is bound to offend some, of his eccentric neighbour Antoine who lived in the valley nearby.
Antoine having been shocked to hear from Peter that ‘One doesn’t eat fox in England’, proceeded to offer, ‘with gusto and some hideous explicit gestures’, how to prepare and cook a fox.
“Find a young fox and shoot it cleanly through the head. Skin it and then leave under cold running water for 24 hours. Then drain it and hang in a sack outdoors overnight, preferably when there is a frost. The following morning place it in a cast iron casserole, and cover with a mixture of blood and wine, adding herbs, onions and garlic, and simmer for two days. Then invite in the neighbours, and enjoy with bread, boiled potatoes and more wine”.