BACK in 2008, I bought a thousand-acre spread in Oxfordshire and employed a local man to do the farmering. But last year he decided to retire, so I thought I’d take over myself.
Many people were surprised by this, because to be a farmer you need to be a vet, an untangler of red tape, an agronomist, a mechanic, an entrepreneur, a gambler, a weather forecaster, a salesman, a labourer and an accountant.
And I am none of those things. My bosses at Amazon were so surprised they commissioned an eight-part TV show that would enable viewers to enjoy the “hilarious consequences” of my attempts to manage the woods and the meadows and the fields full of wheat and barley and oilseed rape.
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