For one day, farmers, food producers, animals, machinery, families, school friends, neighbours and plenty of people who wouldn’t normally set foot on a farm all end up in the same field.

And in 11 days’ time, it’s Melplash Show! 🐄🌾🚜

📅 Thursday 27th August
📍 West Bay Showground, Bridport

If you’ve never been before, I really think you should come.

Melplash is a proper celebration of the countryside around us. There are livestock classes, horses, food, local producers, tractors, competitions, crafts and plenty for children to get stuck into.

But obviously, I’m slightly biased about one particular bit…

Come and find Discover Farming 🐄

We’ll be there with the Discover Farming tent, doing what we love most: helping people understand a little more about where their food comes from and what actually happens on farms.

You definitely don’t need to know anything about farming before you arrive. In fact, that’s rather the point.

Come and ask us questions.

Come and find out about cows and milk.

Come and have a go.

Come and talk to the people who actually spend their days farming.

And most importantly…

Come and find us at the wooden milking cows! 🐄🥛

They are always a brilliant way for children to have a go at “milking” a cow without us having to persuade one of the real girls to stand in the middle of the showground all day!

We’ll have lots going on around the tent, with activities, conversations and plenty of opportunities for children and adults to learn something new.

Why does it matter?

I’m a huge believer that we need to make farming more accessible.

Not everyone has a farmer in the family anymore. Lots of children don’t have an opportunity to visit a working farm and, understandably, there can be a real disconnect between the food sitting on a supermarket shelf and everything that happened before it got there.

Agricultural shows can help bridge that gap.

You can see the animals. Meet the people. Ask the daft questions. There genuinely aren’t any daft questions, by the way.

And children can discover that agriculture isn’t just about driving tractors. There is a whole world of careers connected to farming, food, animals, science, technology, engineering and the environment.

If one child goes home from Melplash thinking “I’d quite like to do that one day”, that’s pretty exciting.

And it’s also just a really good day out

Not everything has to have a serious purpose!

Come for the cows.

Stay for the food.

Have a wander.

Talk to people.

Watch something you’ve never watched before.

Buy something local.

Let the children get thoroughly involved.

And come and say hello to us.

I’ll be somewhere around the Discover Farming tent and the wooden milking cows. 🐄😂

🎟️ Tickets: Melplash Show tickets⁠

11 days to go. See you at Melplash! 🌾🐄🚜

This week on The Big Debate my co host Ally Hunter Blair and I recorded live at Groundswell Agriculture, joined by Suffolk organic farmer John Pawsey to talk through where the organic sector is really headed.

It's a question I keep coming back to. Organic farming gets talked about in extremes, either as the answer to everything wrong with modern agriculture, or as a niche that can never feed the country at scale. Sitting down with John, who's been farming organically for over 30 years, gave us a much more honest picture than either of those stories allow for.

A few things stuck with me from the conversation:

The economics are shifting, and not always kindly. Organic premiums have historically been what made the model work for a lot of growers, but rising input costs, changing subsidy structures, and squeezed consumer budgets are putting real pressure on that margin. John was candid about the balancing act, staying true to the principles while still running a viable business.

Soil health isn't a slogan for people like John, it's the whole operating system.We talked about rotations, fertility building, and the patience organic farming demands. It's a longer game than conventional systems, and that mismatch between farming timelines and market/political timelines came up again and again.

Scale is the real fault line in this debate.Can organic principles, reduced inputs, biodiversity, closed loop fertility, be applied more broadly without becoming diluted or performative? Or is organic always going to be a smaller, more intentional slice of UK agriculture? We didn't land on a tidy answer, and I don't think there is one yet.

What I appreciated most about recording this one live, tent full of people at Groundswell, was that it wasn't a polished studio debate, it was farmers in the audience pushing back, asking questions, disagreeing. That's the version of this conversation that actually moves things forward.

🔗 Listen wherever you get your podcasts, or watch the full episode on YouTube

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=YhyAzSMrPjE&ra=mAnd

Thank you to

The Sustainable Food Trust, for hosting the podcast tent at Groundswell. This live episode was made possible by Groundswell Festival and the Rothschild Foundation.

Virgin Money, a trading name of Nationwide Building Society.

TELUS Agriculture & Consumer Goods, and leading law firm Birketts LLP.

DLF Seeds UK.

Last week I went to the launch at Daunt Books for Future Rural: Imagining Tomorrow’s Countryside, a new collection of essays and poetry published with the Campaign to Protect Rural England’s centenary and edited by Adrian Cooper from Little Toller Books.

The book brings together writers, farmers, ecologists, activists and thinkers all asking the same question really… what should the future of the countryside look like?

It was genuinely lovely to meet some of the other contributors in person. Different sectors, different backgrounds and different opinions at times too, but all connected by a shared care for rural Britain, food, farming and nature.

My chapter, Notes from Home Farm, draws on my experiences farming, chairing the Organic Dairy Roundtable and travelling during my Nuffield Scholarship looking at the future of organic dairy farming.

This extract probably sums up a lot of what I came home thinking about:

“Labels alone are not enough. Organic used to be the loudest voice in the sustainability conversation. But now the word ‘regenerative’ is everywhere, and it is new and lively and modern. In many cases organic farmers are already delivering those same outcomes, but we do not always explain it well enough.”

That feels like such an important point.

Farming does not happen in a bubble. Markets change, language changes, consumers change and if we want any system to stay relevant, we have to keep telling the story clearly. Not just what we do, but why it matters.

One of the biggest things I took away from the evening was actually hope. Hope that conversation still matters. Hope that people still care deeply about the countryside and the people producing food within it. And hope that the future of rural Britain can still be shaped by collaboration rather than division.

Thank you so much to everyone who has already bought Future Rural, read it, shared it or sent messages about it. It genuinely means a lot ❤️🌱

Future Rural is out now in local bookshops and on Amazon 📚

Buy Future Rural on Amazon

Nuffield Notes

Week 8 of 10

Future of Organic Dairy, told in real life

Should organic stand up without subsidy, and should it have to

I remember being in Brussels and feeling slightly small.

Not because the buildings are tall, although they are. More because you suddenly see how many decisions about farming are made in rooms a long way from a yard.

And it made one question feel unavoidable.

Should organic stand up financially without subsidy

And should it have to

You can almost hear people take a breath when you say it out loud.

Because it is not really a question about organic.

It is a question about what we think farming is for.

Targets are easy to announce

Policy loves a number.

A big bold target is neat. It sounds confident. It looks great on a slide.

But farming is not neat.

Targets change behaviour. Sometimes in a good way, sometimes in a strange way. And if you push supply faster than you build real demand, you can end up with the sort of wobble we have all felt before.

More volume. Less premium. More uncertainty.

Nobody needs more uncertainty.

The truth is, most farming is supported in some form

I think we sometimes pretend this is an organic only issue, when it is not.

Most countries support farming somehow, because food is not like selling trainers. Food is daily. Food is security. Food is political whether anyone admits it or not.

So the honest question is not “subsidy yes or no”.

It is “what are we paying for”.

If the public wants farming to deliver more than food, things like cleaner water, biodiversity, soils, animal welfare, reduced reliance on certain inputs, then we have to stop being coy about that and have a grown up conversation about funding.

Because you cannot demand extra outcomes and then act offended when those outcomes cost money.

Where it gets complicated for organic

Organic sits in a slightly awkward place.

It is expected to deliver a set of outcomes, and it does that by following a framework that can add cost, add constraint, and add paperwork.

At the same time, it relies on a premium that is tied to shoppers having spare cash.

When money is tight, the premium is the first bit to get squeezed. Not because people hate organic. Just because real life turns up in the supermarket aisle.

So organic can feel like it is always walking a tightrope. If the market is strong, everyone loves it. If the market is weak, everyone suddenly wants to debate whether it deserves to exist.

That is exhausting for farms trying to plan long term.

The bit nobody likes saying

If organic is only held up by subsidy, it becomes fragile the moment policy shifts.

And policy does shift.

So when I ask myself whether organic should stand on its own feet, I actually think the long term answer has to be yes.

But when I ask whether it should have to stand on its own feet while also delivering outcomes society is asking for, I think it is fair to say that depends on whether society is willing to pay for those outcomes.

This is not about handouts.

It is about honesty.

What I saw abroad changed how I think about it

Travel made me realise organic looks and feels different depending on the country you are in.

In some places it is mainstream because it is normalised through procurement and clear national messaging. In other places it is treated as a niche lifestyle product, and then everyone is surprised it stays niche.

In some places it grows because subsidy pulls it along. In other places it grows because the market genuinely asks for it.

None of those routes is automatically right or wrong. But they do have different consequences.

If subsidy leads and demand lags, you build something that can wobble the moment the rules change.

If demand leads and the system supports it with stability, you build something investable.

That word matters.

Investable means farmers can plan. Hire. Breed for the future. Put a building up. Sleep a bit better.

What I think would make this less of a constant argument

If we want organic dairy to be more than a punchbag in every downturn, we need to stop treating this like a purity test and start treating it like a design problem.

Here is what I would put at the centre.

1. Be clear what support is for

If the funding is for public goods, say that. Measure it in a way that normal people can understand. Make it feel fair.

2. Stability matters more than generosity

Farmers can cope with tough rules. What breaks confidence is rules that keep changing.

If you want long term decisions, you need long term signals.

3. Build demand alongside supply

If you want more organic farms, you need more organic shoppers, and that only happens when the story is clear, the label is understood, and the product feels worth it.

4. Do not ignore the supply chain

Milk has to go somewhere every day. Resilience is not only on farm. It is processing, product mix, and having more than one route to market when things get tight.

Where I have landed

I came into Nuffield wanting a simple answer.

I am leaving it thinking the real answer is a better question.

What do we want farming to deliver

And how do we pay for that fairly, without making farm businesses brittle

Because if we keep pretending food should be cheap, farming should improve, nature should be protected, welfare should rise, and nobody should pay for any of it, we are not being clever. We are just being unrealistic.

Next week I want to bring this back down to the shop floor.

What do people think organic means

Why do they buy it

And how do we keep it relevant when money is tight, without sounding preachy or defensive

See you next week 🌱🐄

So we have to keep sharing the story

There are not many things in life that every single person has in common.

We all live differently. We vote differently. We work in different worlds. We are raising families in different ways, in different places, under different pressures. We all bring our own experiences, opinions and baggage to the table.

But food?

Food is the one thing we all have in common.

Every single one of us depends on it. Every single day.

And that is why I keep coming back to this simple belief that we have to keep sharing the story of farming.

Because if food connects us all, then farming should not feel distant. It should not feel hidden behind gates, jargon or headlines. It should feel real, human and worth understanding.

For me, that is a huge part of what this all comes down to.

Yes, I farm cows. Yes, I think deeply about systems, business, costs, milk price, grass, labour and all the practical things that make a farm work. But underneath all of that is something much simpler. We are producing food. Food that goes into people’s homes, fridges, lunchboxes and everyday lives.

That matters.

And I think sometimes in farming we forget just how powerful that connection is.

We can get caught up in defending ourselves, correcting myths, reacting to criticism or trying to explain complex issues in a few seconds online. I understand why. There is a lot said about farming by people who have never had to make a living from the land. There are strong opinions, often with very little understanding of the reality on the ground.

But I do not think the answer is to retreat.

I think the answer is to keep showing up.

Keep opening the gate. Keep having the conversation. Keep explaining. Keep inviting people in.

Because when people understand food, they understand farming differently.

When they see cows not as a headline but as animals that need care, management and attention every single day, the story changes.

When they understand that grass can be turned into something nutritious through a cow, the story changes.

When they see the teamwork behind a farm, the planning, the pressure, the risk and the pride, the story changes.

When children visit a farm and realise milk does not just come from a shelf, the story changes.

And that matters more than ever.

I have seen it on our farm. We have school groups, families and visitors come through, and time and time again you see that moment where something clicks. It is often not complicated. It is not a policy paper or a debate on social media. It is a child seeing a cow up close. It is someone asking a question they were almost embarrassed to ask. It is a conversation over a gate. It is a teacher saying the children will talk about this all the way home.

That is where change starts.

Not through shouting louder.

Through sharing better.

There is something incredibly grounding about reminding ourselves that food is universal. It cuts through politics, trends and noise. It brings us back to what really matters. Good food. Healthy soil. Cared for animals. Sustainable businesses. Strong rural communities. A next generation that feels inspired, not shut out.

That is one of the reasons I care so much about education and opening up what we do. If we want people to value farming, they need to understand it. If we want them to support British food, they need to feel connected to where it comes from. If we want the next generation to see a future in agriculture, they need to be invited into the story early enough to imagine themselves in it.

We cannot expect people to value what they never get the chance to see.

And we also cannot underestimate how much people want to feel connected to something real.

In a world that often feels fast, polished and disconnected, farming still offers something tangible. It offers honesty. It offers responsibility. It offers a daily relationship with weather, land, animals and people. It offers a reminder that food is not just a product. It is a process. A commitment. A chain of decisions and care.

That is a story worth telling.

Not because farming is perfect.

Not because every system is the same.

Not because there is only one right way to produce food.

But because the truth is always more useful than assumptions.

And because if we do not tell our story, someone else will tell it for us.

I think that is why I feel so strongly about sharing the everyday. The ordinary moments. The repetitive moments. The muddy, beautiful, exhausting, rewarding reality of it all. Not just the glossy version. Not just the crisis points. The actual life of farming.

The early mornings. The calving. The grass walks. The difficult decisions. The teamwork. The pressure. The pride.

Because that is where trust is built.

People do not need perfection. They need honesty.

They need to see that farming is made up of real people doing their best, making decisions with care, balancing economics with responsibility, and trying to produce good food in a world that does not always make that easy.

Food is the one thing we have in common.

So let’s start there.

Let’s keep telling the story of what it takes to produce it.

Let’s keep bringing people closer to the land, the animals and the people behind their food.

Let’s keep making farming visible, understandable and human.

Because the more connected people feel to food, the more they will care about what sits behind it.

And that is a story always worth sharing.

Nuffield Notes
Week 7 of 10
Future of Organic Dairy, told in real life

There was a moment on my travels where I stopped thinking about dairy as a commodity.

Not milk as a litre. Not price per pence. Not even organic versus conventional.

Just dairy as… value.

Pride. Identity. Skill. A product that cannot be copied overnight. A supply chain built to protect the people at the start of it.

And that moment happened in cheese.

The lesson from Italy: standards can create power

In Bologna I went into the world of Parmigiano Reggiano.

If you have ever eaten it, you know it is not just cheese. It is a system. A whole culture of doing things properly, and being unapologetic about it.

What struck me was the discipline.

The inspections. The grading. The sense that quality is protected long before a consumer sees a pack on a shelf.

It made me think about something we do not always say out loud in farming.

Standards are not only about being good.
Standards are also a form of leverage.

If you can prove quality, and if your market believes in it, you are no longer selling milk or cheese as an anonymous ingredient. You are selling a reputation.

That reputation does a lot of heavy lifting when markets wobble.

Then Wales made it feel personal: value add can keep a farm alive

A completely different emotion hit me in Wales at Hafod. My lovely friends Becky and Patrick and their boys.

This was not an industrial story. It was an artisan story. The kind of story where you can feel the farm behind the product.

What I loved was how honest it was.

This was not “let’s make a cute farm brand for fun.”

It was “we need a way to hold on to value, build stability, and make the farm viable long term.”

Cheese here was not a lifestyle add on. It was a route to resilience.

And it reminded me of a point I keep coming back to after the crash years.

Farms do not need more opinions.
They need more options.

Options for where the milk goes
Options for how it is sold
Options that smooth out the peaks and troughs that make dairy such an emotional rollercoaster

Check out and buy some of their cheese

Buy some cheese

Tasmania gave me the modern version: brand plus business

Tasmania was another shift in my thinking, because it showed the bridge between artisan and scale.

Ashgrove Cheese has built a brand that people recognise, but it is still rooted in farm identity and product integrity.

The thing I took from it was not “everyone should make cheese.”

It was this.

If you can build something consumers actively choose, you step out of the constant price comparison trap.

You stop being the product that is swapped for the cheapest equivalent that week.

You become a preference.

And preference is what gives farms breathing room.

Why this matters so much for organic dairy in the UK

Organic milk in the UK is still heavily weighted to liquid.

That makes the market more fragile, because liquid is short shelf life and it has fewer places to hide when supply peaks or demand softens.

If the milk has to be sold quickly, and shoppers are watching every penny, the system becomes twitchy.

That does not mean organic is wrong. It does not mean conventional is wrong either.

It just means the structure matters.

A sector that is mostly liquid will always be more exposed than a sector with more long life product routes.

That is why value add is not a fancy extra in my head anymore.

It is part of risk management.

The bigger theme: co ops, collaboration, and not doing it alone

Italy also reminded me of something else.

Power does not come only from the product. It comes from coordination.

One farm making a brilliant cheese is inspiring.

A group of farms working together with shared standards, shared marketing, shared protection of quality, and shared long term thinking is something else entirely.

That is the part we sometimes shy away from in the UK because we like independence. We like doing it our own way.

But dairy is a volume business sitting inside a retail world that is ruthless on price.

If farms want stability, collaboration has to be part of the conversation.

Not in a fluffy way.

In a hard headed business way.

So what does this look like in practice, without everyone needing a cheese room

This is the bit where I want to keep it grounded.

Not every farm should make cheese. Not every farm has the location, labour, cash flow, time, or personality for it.

But every sector can learn from what value add does.

Here are the practical principles I have taken home.

1. Build more routes to market

If too much milk has only one obvious home, the system becomes fragile.

More routes might mean cheese.
It might mean butter, yogurt, long life lines.
It might mean powder capacity and flexibility.
It might mean ingredient contracts.
It might mean niche products, or seasonal products, or local partnerships.

The actual product matters less than the principle.

More routes equals more resilience.

2. Protect quality in a way people understand

The reason Parmigiano Reggiano works is not only because it is delicious.

It is because the standard means something, and consumers trust it.

If organic wants to hold a premium, the public has to understand what they are paying for, and it has to feel real.

Not a lecture. Not a guilt trip.

Just clarity and trust.

3. Turn “nice story” into “business advantage”

Hafod reminded me that story is not fluff when it protects margin.

Story is what stops your product being interchangeable.

But story only works when the product backs it up.

Taste. Consistency. Quality. Trust.

The basics win.

What I came home believing

The crash years forced a lot of honesty.

They showed that good farming alone does not guarantee a stable outcome.

So when I think about the future of organic dairy now, I do not just think about standards and principles.

I think about structure.

How do we reduce exposure
How do we create stability
How do we keep value closer to farms
How do we build markets that can survive a difficult year

Cheese is not the answer for everyone.

But the thinking behind cheese might be.

Because when you turn milk into a product people choose on purpose, you shift the conversation from “what is cheapest this week” to “what do I want to buy.”

And that is where farming starts to get some power back.

Next week

Next week I want to go to the heart of the consumer question.

If organic is tied to disposable income, how do we keep it relevant when money is tight, without becoming preachy, niche, or defensive.

Basically, how do we sell value without sounding like we are trying to sell value.

See you next week 🌱🐄

Today, on her birthday, I find myself asking the same questions that come back year after year. Was there more I could have done? Could the tragedy have been stopped? Because that’s what suicide is when someone you love so deeply is suddenly gone.

But suicide is not a selfish act. It is often the only way someone believes they can escape the severe pain they are living with.

Mum battled with her health for much of our childhood. Back then things were handled very differently. Often you were simply removed from home and taken to a hospital or a centre. Things have come a long way since then, but not far enough. We are still losing too many people this way.

Today, on her birthday, this is for you mum

A Letter to My Mum on Her Birthday

Dear Mum,

Birthdays were your thing.

Heart-shaped cakes for everyone. Thoughtful, hand-knitted coat hangers. Hand-sewn lavender bags. Roses planted in gardens. You made sure every birthday was special no matter whose it was.

You were determined to make everyone feel cherished on their day. Hand-painted cards from Dad. Balloons. A table full of love. You were always the hostess with the mostess, making every guest feel welcome, relaxed, and completely at home.

Even now, your hand-wrapped presents carefully layered with tissue paper and tied with raffia are still proudly kept by the hundreds of friends you left behind. They tell me so often how much they treasure the things you gave them, not just the gifts, but the thought, the care, the way you made them feel.

You were one of a kind. We all adored you.

You loved hares and Labradors, the sea, and your family most of all. And even now, six years on, there are still days I instinctively pick up the phone to call you. Just for a second. Just before I remember you’re gone.

For someone so loved, you never quite knew you were enough. But you were. More than enough.

You were the best mum, the best wife, the best friend. The best granny. The best colleague. And even now, your old clients still reach out, telling me stories about the animals you helped heal. About the difference you made.

You had the gentlest soul. The most contagious laugh.

You loved the sea, and you raised so much for charity WaterAid, among others because you never stopped thinking about how to help others.

And today, on your birthday, I just want to say:

We still love you.

We still miss you.

We still carry you with us, in the birthdays, in the laughter, in the love.

Happy birthday, Mum.

Wherever you are, I hope it’s beautiful.

If I had to pick one lesson that kept turning up in every country, in every system, on every type of dairy farm, it would be this.

The farms that looked calm and confident nearly always had cows that fitted what the farm was asking them to do.

Not the highest yield on a good day.

Not the fanciest pedigree story.

Not the cow that looks amazing in a photo.

The cow that just works. Week after week. Year after year.

And the moment you start thinking like that, a lot of the noise fades.

Because you stop asking “which system is best” and you start asking a better question.

What cow fits this farm.

A cow is not a cow is not a cow

We talk about dairy cows like they are one product.

They are not.

A cow that thrives in a high input housed system can be completely the wrong fit for a grass based system.

A cow that is brilliant on forage can fall apart if you push her too hard on starch and pressure.

A cow that looks like a dream in early lactation can become a nightmare if she cannot hold condition, cannot stay sound, or cannot get back in calf when you need her to.

And this is where I think dairy has sometimes done itself a disservice.

We have celebrated output without always celebrating fit.

Fit is quieter. Fit is not as sexy. Fit is also the thing that keeps farms profitable and people sane.

The Irish reminder: fertility is a productivity trait

On the Ireland leg of my travel, what struck me was how normal it was to talk about fertility, health, and solids as the foundation.

Not as a “nice to have”.

As the starting point.

Because if you are grass based, you can be the best grass grower in the world, but if your cows do not calve compactly, get back in calf, stay sound, and turn grass into milk solids reliably, then the system never quite settles.

In those systems, the best cows are not the ones that peak highest.

They are the ones that stay in the herd.

They are the ones you barely notice because they do their job without drama.

And there is something in that for every system, not just grazing.

Wales reminded me that uniformity is underrated

One of my favourite visits was seeing a Welsh herd working in a tougher landscape, where the cows had to earn their keep.

The thing that stuck with me was not one superstar cow.

It was the uniformity.

A herd where you could tell the cows had been selected for the job. For feet. For strength. For the ability to go out and graze and keep going. For being functional.

Uniform cows make everything easier.

Feeding is simpler.

Managing body condition is simpler.

Health work is easier.

Staff can read the herd quicker.

Youngstock decisions are clearer.

Uniformity is not boring.

Uniformity is a strategy.

The brutal truth: every system has a trade off

This is where I want to keep it balanced, because there is no right or wrong.

Different farms have different land, labour, infrastructure, climate, contracts, and risk appetite.

Some farms need to house more. Some farms need to graze more. Some farms choose a blend. Some farms thrive with robots. Some farms thrive with block calving. Some farms need year round supply.

All valid.

But every system has a trade off.

And those trade offs land hardest on the cow.

So the cow has to match the trade off.

If you want compact calving, you need fertility and a cow that holds condition.

If you want high yields, you need health and a cow that copes with pressure.

If you want grazing, you need mobility and appetite and robustness.

If you want low inputs, you need efficiency and resilience.

If you want simplicity, you need consistency.

When you are honest about the trade off, the breeding goal becomes clearer.

The cow that fits is usually not the one that shouts loudest

This is what I wrote down for myself during the trip.

Pick cows that make your system easier.

Not cows that make you feel clever.

And I mean that kindly because I have definitely been guilty of falling in love with cows for the wrong reasons.

The cow that “wins” in the catalogue is not always the cow that wins in the margin.

The cow that fits is often the one that:

Gets in calf when you need her to

Calves easily and gets going quickly

Stays sound on her feet

Eats well on the diet you actually feed

Produces solids without falling apart

Holds body condition without a constant battle

Stays healthy with minimal intervention

Lasts

That last one matters more than we admit.

Longevity is not a fluffy welfare metric. It is an economics metric. It is a labour metric. It is a replacement rate metric. It is a stress metric.

This is where organic conversations get stuck

Organic gets pulled into arguments about rules, premiums, politics, identity.

But on farm, day to day, a lot of it comes back to the same practical question.

Can the cow do the job within the framework.

If grazing is a requirement, the cow has to thrive at grass.

If forage is a big part of the ration, she has to convert it efficiently.

If inputs are more limited, she has to be robust and trouble free.

That is not better or worse than any other system.

It is simply a different job description.

And the cow either fits the job description or she does not.

A simple exercise that helped me

I started doing this after Nuffield and it sounds obvious but it is powerful.

Write your system down like a job advert.

What does success look like on this farm.

Then read it back and ask yourself if your current cows have been bred for that job.

Not for someone else’s farm.

Not for a marketing photo.

For your reality.

Because the future of dairy is not just about what we believe in.

It is about what actually works, repeatedly, in the hands of real people.

Next week

Next week I want to move from cows to value.

Because even with the perfect cow, milk still has to be sold into a market that is changing fast.

And one of the most interesting lessons I took from travel was how co ops, brands, and value add can shift power back towards farms when markets get wobbly.

See you next week 🌱🐄

Oh wow, I cannot believe we are at episode 10 already and more and more of you are listening to us having a chat 🎙️

It honestly means such a lot. What started as conversations we felt were worth having has turned into something people are really tuning into, and I am so grateful for every listen, every message, and every bit of support along the way.

In this latest episode of Meet the Farmers: The Big Debate, Ally and I ask what the ongoing conflict across the Middle East could mean for UK agriculture, especially as fuel prices rise.

Ally is also joined by Emily Norton, Chair of the Agriculture and Horticulture Development Board, to discuss her thoughts on its future and to ask whether levy payers are really getting value for money.

These are the conversations we want this podcast to hold space for. The big issues, the awkward questions, and the topics that matter to farming businesses trying to make sense of a changing world.

You can watch the episode here:

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=ar5wr0I53NQ&pp=iggCQAE%3D

A huge thank you, as always, to the partners who support the podcast.

Headline Partner: Virgin Money

Associate Partners: TELUS Agriculture & Consumer Goods and Birketts LLP

Produced by RuralPod Media

Thank you for being here and for listening. Ten episodes in already feels pretty special.

Mud on boots, wide eyes, funny questions, and why food, farming and nature belong in education

There is something really special about watching children arrive on a farm.

Some come full of questions. Some are a bit unsure. Some have never stood this close to a cow, never watched a parlour in action, never noticed the plants growing in the hedge or thought much about where their food comes from.

And then, slowly, something changes.

They relax. They get curious. They start asking brilliant questions. They spot things adults often walk straight past. They connect food, animals, soil, people and place in a way that no worksheet ever quite manages.

That is why I care so much about school visits.

We have had some really lovely feedback from recent visits and it honestly meant a lot. Not because it is nice for us to hear, although of course it is, but because it is a reminder that this work matters.

“Thank you for an enjoyable day. It was genuinely so good for their wellbeing to be outdoors, learning and seeing where their food comes from.”

That one really stayed with me.

Because that is exactly it.

Getting children onto farms is not just about showing them cows. It is about helping them understand where food comes from, yes, but it is also about something bigger. It is about connection. Connection to the countryside, to the environment, to animals, to food, and to the people who produce it.

And sometimes it is about confidence too.

“A few children in the class were determined that they wanted to work outdoors, on a farm or with animals after the trip. They all felt that it had been a really great day and there were lots of smiles.”

How brilliant is that.

If even one child goes home seeing farming differently, feeling a bit more curious, or imagining a future they had never thought about before, then that matters.

Sometimes the biggest impact is not complicated. Sometimes it is simply the power of being outside, seeing something real, and having the freedom to ask questions.

“This was the best trip ever!”

Honestly, that says it all.

There was also something really moving in the feedback about children who do not always find classroom learning easy.

“Being outside all day and around animals and nature was great for children who find classroom learning difficult.”

I think that matters hugely.

Because farms can offer something different. Space to move. Space to notice. Space to learn by seeing, smelling, touching, listening and doing. For some children, that kind of learning just clicks in a way that sitting at a desk does not.

And in a world where many children are growing up further and further removed from farming and nature, those opportunities feel more important than ever.

We talk a lot about the disconnect between people and food, between childhood and the natural world, between public perception and the reality of farming. The truth is, that gap does not close with slogans. It closes when children come and see it for themselves.

When they walk across a yard.

When they smell silage.

When they see cows being milked.

When they learn that soil is alive and plants have names.

When they realise farming is not some old fashioned idea from the past, but a real, skilled, modern job full of purpose.

That is why I am so passionate about being involved in the Beacon Farm project and the wider links with the Sustainable Food Trust and Harmony. This work is about bringing food, farming and nature back into education in a way that feels real, practical and memorable.

It also links so well with Discover Farming at the Melplash Show. Giving children and young people the chance to engage with farming in different settings all matters. Whether that is on farm, at a show, in a classroom, or through conversation, it all helps make farming feel more open, relevant and full of possibility.

For me, opening the farm gates has never just been about showing people what we do. It is about creating a place where children can get a bit muddy, ask whatever they want, laugh, learn, and leave with a fuller picture of the countryside around them. A place where they can build understanding, but also wonder.

And I am hugely grateful to the people helping make that possible.

Thank you to Dorset Farming in Protected Landscapes for supporting this work. Thank you too to our landlord, the Eyre family, for backing the idea that farms can be places of learning as well as production.

Because this does not happen by accident. It happens when people believe that children should have the chance to see food, farming and nature up close.

If we want the next generation to value food, care about the environment and feel connected to the land, we have to let them in.

Preferably with muddy boots, big smiles, and maybe a bit of straw in their socks.

One evening on my travels, I watched milk arrive by motorbike.

Not in a romantic way. In a proper, practical, get it done way.

Small cans. Small herds. A steady stream of people turning up, tipping milk into a communal tank, and someone recording it so they could be paid fairly.

It hit me because it was so normal for them. And so different to how milk moves on most farms at home, where it disappears down a pipe and becomes part of a system you never see.

But the bigger point was not the motorbikes.

It was what sat behind it.

Community.

Trust.

And knowledge being shared, person to person, because that is how you move forward when you do not have spare money, spare time, or spare margin for error.

I thought I was travelling to learn about organic

I went out thinking I was looking for answers about organic dairy.

What I actually found, again and again, was that the most valuable things were not always technical.

They were human.

Who talks to who

Who shares what is working

Who is willing to be honest about what is not

Who has the confidence to try something new because someone else has already done it and lived to tell the tale

It sounds obvious, but in farming we can still forget it.

We spend so much energy talking about inputs, policies, premiums, standards, and markets, and then overlook the most powerful driver of change on the ground.

People learning from people.

The places with the biggest gaps had the same pattern

In some countries, dairy is still evolving fast, but knowledge exchange is limited.

When farmers are isolated, when advisory support is thin, when there is not a strong culture of discussion groups or open days, progress can be painfully slow even if the potential is massive.

Not because farmers are not clever.

Because nobody can reinvent the wheel on their own.

And when the stakes are high, you tend to stick with what you know, even if it is not perfect.

That is why I keep coming back to knowledge exchange as a form of infrastructure. It is not fluffy. It is not optional. It is as real as a milking parlour or a track.

Then I landed in places where sharing is built in

Ireland was one of the best examples of this.

What impressed me was not one magic farm. It was the culture of open days, benchmarking, and learning out loud. A feeling that farmers and advisors are constantly trying, measuring, comparing, improving, then sharing it so others can take the shortcut.

That creates momentum.

It also creates confidence, which matters more than we admit.

Because the truth is, most of us do not avoid change because we are lazy. We avoid change because the risk feels too high. One mistake can cost a lot.

Knowledge exchange lowers the risk.

Someone else has already walked the path and can tell you where the holes are.

The UK has this, but we do not always value it properly

We have brilliant discussion groups in the UK. We have farmers who are generous with their time. We have vets, nutritionists, consultants, processors, charities, and networks doing good work.

But we do not always treat knowledge exchange like the essential part of resilience that it is.

We treat it like a nice extra.

A meeting you go to if you have time.

A farm walk if the weather is good.

And yet when you look at what actually shifts outcomes in farming, it is often the smallest things.

One person saying, we tried this and it worked

Or, we tried it and it did not and this is why

Or, if you do it, do not make the same mistake I did

Those conversations are worth more than most people realise.

It also made me think about how we argue

I came home feeling less interested in labels and more interested in what works.

Organic, conventional, housed, grazing, block calving, all year round, robots, parlours, crossbreds, Holsteins, Jerseys, whatever.

It is not about being right.

It is about building systems that are resilient on that farm, with that team, in that climate, for that market.

And the fastest way to improve any system is to stop assuming you have to learn everything the hard way.

Talk to people.

Visit farms.

Share what you have learnt.

Be honest about what is hard.

That is how sectors move forward without splitting into tribes.

Three things I think we should do more of

This is what I took out of the travel notes and the report and brought home as practical, not preachy, actions.

1. Fund people, not just paperwork

If we want change, we have to invest in training, mentoring, and real world support.

Not just schemes that create admin and frustration.

The best knowledge exchange is simple. It gets farmers together, shows real farms, and makes learning feel normal.

2. Make it easier to benchmark without shame

Benchmarking only works when people feel safe enough to be honest.

We need more spaces where farmers can share numbers, grass performance, fertility, health, labour, and cost of production without it turning into judgement.

Benchmarking is not for comparison. It is for improvement.

3. Build bridges between systems

One of the most hopeful things I saw was farmers who were curious, not defensive.

Taking ideas from regenerative without losing integrity. Taking ideas from conventional efficiency without losing the values. Taking ideas from organic about inputs and cycles without making it a moral badge.

The future is not one system winning.

The future is good farmers learning faster.

Why this matters more after a crash

After the crash years, confidence became the scarce resource.

When confidence drops, people stop investing. They stop taking risks. They hold their breath and hope the next year is kinder.

Knowledge exchange is one of the quickest ways to rebuild confidence, because it reminds you that you are not alone, and it gives you tools you can actually use.

And personally, that is what Nuffield did for me.

It gave me a wider view, but it also gave me the most valuable thing of all.

A network of people I can ring when I am stuck, curious, or trying to figure out what the next move should be.

Next week

Next week I want to go into something more hands on.

The right cow for the right system.

Because wherever I travelled, and whatever the label on the milk, the farms that looked calm and confident nearly always had one thing in common.

Cows that fitted the system they were being asked to work in.

See you next week 🌱🐄

One of the biggest surprises of my Nuffield year was realising how little of the food system is actually about farming.

It is about the rules around farming.

What gets rewarded

What gets measured

What gets bought by schools and hospitals

What gets a label people recognise

What gets quietly squeezed until it disappears

You can have the best farmers in the world and still end up with a food system that feels fragile if the policy is chaotic, short term, or designed by people who have never had to make payroll.

And you can have farmers under huge pressure, but still build confidence and growth if the policy is consistent, clear, and joined up.

That is the theme of this week.

Not politics. Not party stuff.

Just the reality that policy is one of the biggest levers shaping the future of organic dairy, whether we like it or not.

Sri Lanka: the most brutal lesson in unintended consequences

Sri Lanka was the clearest example I saw of how quickly a policy decision can land on real people.

A country tried to make a bold move on fertiliser and farming inputs, and the speed of it mattered as much as the idea itself. It created disruption, it hit production, and it shook confidence.

When food is already tight, you do not get many chances to experiment at national scale.

It is a reminder I keep coming back to: good intentions delivered fast can still do real harm.

And if you want people to change, you cannot just remove tools and hope for the best. You have to build capability, knowledge exchange, supply chains, and trust alongside it.

That trip made me more patient with farmers at home who feel whiplash from constant scheme changes. Because once you have watched a whole country try to pivot quickly, you understand how much steady matters.

Denmark: what joined up looks like

Denmark gave me the opposite feeling.

Not perfect. Not simple. But steady.

Organic there is not treated like a niche little corner of the supermarket that only certain people shop from. It is woven into everyday life through clear standards, clear messaging, and a level of national consistency that builds trust.

Two things stood out.

First, public procurement. When schools, hospitals, and public kitchens buy organic, it normalises it. It stops being the expensive option and becomes part of the food system.

Second, clarity. A single recognisable label, and simple ways of showing progress like the restaurant bronze, silver, gold idea. That sort of thing makes it easy for the public to understand without needing a lecture.

Denmark made me realise that if you want organic to grow, you cannot leave it entirely to farmers and retailers to fight it out in the aisle. If you want a national outcome, you need national coordination.

Brussels: targets are easy, delivery is the hard bit

Then there is the European conversation.

You can set a big target, like getting a quarter of farming organic by 2030, and it sounds brilliant on a slide.

But targets create pressure and pressure creates shortcuts.

If the target is chased purely through subsidy and not through building genuine demand, you risk growth that is fragile the moment the policy changes.

And that is where the debate gets interesting.

Because organic does deliver public goods. Soil, water, biodiversity, often animal health and welfare, lower reliance on synthetic inputs.

So the question is not should society support it.

The better question is how do we support it in a way that creates long term resilience, not dependency.

That was a thread that ran through my whole scholarship. People want organic to stand on its own feet. People also want the public goods it delivers. Holding both truths at once is where the grown up policy conversation lives.

Azerbaijan: when food security becomes the lens

Azerbaijan was another reminder that context changes everything.

In some places, the conversation is not about premium products or lifestyle choices. It is about stability, supply, and food security.

When a country is thinking about resilience, about feeding people, about being less exposed to global shocks, the policy lens shifts.

And that matters for organic, because organic can be framed in two very different ways.

As a premium niche choice for shoppers

Or as a resilience tool when it reduces reliance on imported inputs and encourages local cycles

Neither framing is automatically right. It depends on what a country needs, what it can afford, and what its baseline farming system looks like.

That trip reminded me that organic is not a universal answer. It is a tool that lands differently depending on the national priorities.

What I took home from all of this

I came home thinking less about labels, and more about foundations.

If you want an organic dairy sector that is confident and investable, three things matter.

Consistency

Stop changing the goal posts every season. Farmers can adapt to tough rules more easily than they can adapt to constantly changing rules.

Capability

If you want change, fund knowledge exchange and practical support, not just paperwork. Training, mentoring, and real world examples move the dial faster than slogans.

Coherence

If you want organic to be understood, it has to be easy for the public to recognise. One mark. Clear messaging. Joined up supply chains. Simple stories.

None of that is glamorous.

But it is how you build a market that can survive a bad year.

Why this matters to me personally

The crash years were not just a price problem. They were a confidence problem.

Policy can either steady that confidence or make it wobble harder.

After travelling, I feel much more certain about one thing.

Farmers will do the work. We always do.

But if we want a future for organic dairy that is stable, profitable, and understandable, we need the policy environment to stop being the most unpredictable part of the system.

Next week I want to go somewhere a bit more hopeful and practical.

Because alongside policy, the other lever that changes everything is people. Knowledge exchange. Networks. The moments where one conversation shifts how you do things for the next decade.

See you next week 🌱🐄

I’m excited to share that our latest episode of “Meet the Farmers: The Big Debate” is live! This week, Ally and I reflect on key moments from the NFU Conference covering everything from resilience to the latest announcements on farming schemes. It’s been a big week, and we break it down.

We’re also asking the big question: Is the cereals sector fit for the future? Plus, we share a sheep-themed story that’ll bring a smile.

Our guests this episode:

Chris Baylis (farming in Lincolnshire and Berkshire)

Andrew Court (regenerative arable and beef farming, Staffordshire)

James Bowditch (mixed farming in Dorset)

Watch here: https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=C9ODD9Y0Q_Q&pp=0gcJCY4Bo7VqN5tD

Recording this podcast is such fun and I learnt loads about a sector I don’t really know much about , and I’d love to hear your thoughts….drop a comment and let us know what you think!

Until next time,

Sophie

There is something about NFU Conference that makes you step back and lift your head up a bit. You are still a farmer, still tired, still thinking about the list you left at home. But you are also in a room full of people who care about the same thing. Producing food, keeping businesses afloat, looking after land, and trying to do it all in a world that feels like it changes every week.

The theme was building farming resilience. The word can feel a bit corporate, but the conversations were not. They were practical. They were sometimes uncomfortable. And they were exactly what we need.

Food resilience is not a buzzword

Professor Tim Lang spoke about the UK food system needing to move away from the comfort blanket of “just in time”. The point was simple. Efficiency is brilliant, until something breaks. Resilience is the ability to keep feeding people when the unexpected turns up. Weather, geopolitics, disease, cyber risk, logistics disruption. Pick your shock.

What I took from it was this. We need planning that is real, not a PDF on a shelf. We need to be honest about vulnerabilities. And we need to stop treating food as something that will always just arrive, because history shows it does not work like that.

The international lens, and a reminder about where our market is

The Rabobank session with Harry Smit was a good reset. Yes, global markets matter. But the speaker’s main message was that high value opportunity is often closer to home, with high income consumers who spend more on food, quality and processing.

The bit that stuck with me was the idea that resilience is built deliberately. Using data and insight to anticipate change. Staying in control rather than constantly reacting. Reducing dependencies where we can. And being open to collaboration and circular thinking, even when our instinct is to go it alone.

Trade can help, but it can also hurt

The trade session with Dmitry Grozoubinski and Gail Soutar, chaired by Aled Jones, pulled no punches. We are a trading nation, but the detail matters. Trade can create opportunity, but only if British farming is not treated as a bargaining chip in deals that are really about other industries.

There was a strong thread around standards. If we are asked to meet higher and higher expectations, it is only fair that imports meet equivalent outcomes too. And when we talk about resilience, we have to include the boring bits like friction, paperwork, SPS, and whether the system actually lets businesses move product smoothly.

The political keynote, and the SFI detail that matters

Emma Reynolds’ keynote included updates on SFI and funding streams. But honestly, the most useful part was the questions.

It is always a good sign when the room asks the questions that farmers are asking in real life. TB, SFI stability and moving goalposts, flooding and water management, lamb tail docking and practical welfare outcomes, and the bigger one underneath it all, what is the long term plan and can we trust it enough to invest.

And because SFI is what many farms are trying to plan around, here is what was announced, in plain English, for England.

SFI26 in plain English

A simpler offer
SFI26 will move to 71 actions, down from 102.

Two windows
There will be two application windows. June and September. June is prioritised for farms 3 to 50 hectares, and also any farm 3 hectares plus that does not already have an ELM revenue agreement.

Eligibility
Minimum 3 hectares to apply.

A cap and one agreement
One SFI26 agreement per farm business, with an annual cap of £100,000 per agreement.

Management payment removed
The management payment is being removed for new agreements, with the message being that the budget goes further when it is focused on actions on the ground.

Rates rebalanced
They said rates are still based on income foregone plus costs, but some have been recalibrated.

Moorland rate increases
Some moorland actions have increased and that uplift applies to existing agreements and new SFI26 agreements.

Three rate reductions for new SFI26 agreements
Herbal leys (CSAM3) from £382 per ha to £224 per ha
Winter bird food (CAHL2) from £853 per ha to £648 per ha
Legume fallow (CNUM3) from £593 per ha to £532 per ha

Keeping land in production
Enhanced overwinter stubble (AHW7) has been added into the existing 25% area cap that already covers 10 actions, to avoid too much land being taken out of production.

Rotational actions
You can move rotational actions between fields to match your rotation, and you can vary area year to year, but you cannot go above the area and value you put in for year 1.

And there was also a commitment to publish full guidance and clear budgets for each window before opening, and to provide updates as funding is committed, with a promise of no sudden unexpected closures.

One of my favourite parts of the day

I was also part of a Young Farmers round table with Robbie Moore MP and Victoria Atkins MP. It was farmer led, and it was exactly what you hope these things will be. Honest about the challenges, but full of solutions.

It reminded me how many strong voices are coming through. Not just people who want to farm, but people who want to shape farming. People who can speak with confidence, challenge respectfully, and still back the idea that producing food in Britain matters.

Leaving with one thought

Resilience is not just surviving. It is having enough confidence to plan, invest and improve. It is building businesses that can cope with shocks, without asking the people inside them to carry all the risk on their backs.

It has been such an honor to be part of this great organisation through the dairy board

I was also lucky enough to be included in their report released that day

https://www.nfuonline.com/news/nfu26-building-farming-s-resilience/

A few ideas I am carrying into the week (not my words, but they hit home) from

Brain Food newsletter

Some weeks the best “progress” is just picking up a handful of tiny lessons and actually using them. Here are the ones that have stuck with me, plus how I am trying to apply them in real life.

1. Aim high enough that even failure moves you forward

“If you have really high ambitions, you achieve great things even if you fail. If you have low ambitions, you achieve nothing even if you succeed.”

This feels like a gentle reminder that playing small is its own kind of risk.

What I am taking from it

If the goal does not make you a bit nervous, it is probably not stretching you.

Try this this week

Write one “too big” goal down, then shrink it into the next doable step.

Not the full plan. Just the next step you can take in 20 minutes.

2. Disagreement does not equal dislike

“You don’t have to be disliked even though people disagree with you.”

Not everyone has to get it. Not everyone has to agree. And it does not have to turn into a scrap.

What I am taking from it

You can be clear and kind at the same time.

Try this this week

In one tricky conversation, practise this sentence:

“I hear you. I see it differently.”

Then stop. Let it land.

3. The “different” people often change things

“The people who feel weird, different, and misunderstood are the ones who change the world.”

If you have ever felt like you are doing life slightly sideways, welcome to the club. A lot of good work starts there.

What I am taking from it

Different is data. It might be pointing to your edge, your niche, your contribution.

Try this this week

Name one thing you have been downplaying about yourself.

Write: “This is a strength because…” and finish the sentence.

4. Asking for advice is a quiet power move

“Asking for advice makes people think you’re smart because you are clever enough to recognize how clever they are.”

Advice is not weakness. It is leadership and it builds relationships.

Try this this week

Ask one person for advice on something specific, and make it easy to answer:

“I have two options: A or B. Which would you choose, and why?”

5. Speedy replies are rarely your best work

“The faster you reply, the less you need to say. If you reply in a minute, you can say two words. If you wait a day, it’s a paragraph.”

This one is for anyone who has ever fired back too quickly and then regretted it.

What I am taking from it

Pausing is not avoidance. It is strategy.

Try this this week

Create a rule for yourself: no replying to emotional messages after 9pm.

Draft it if you need to, but send it in the morning.

Rick Rubin on trying to win by pleasing people

He talks about musicians making their first album from the heart, then making the second album for what they think the world wants.

That is not just music. That is business. That is life.

What I am taking from it

The moment you start performing for approval, the work loses its spark. The magic is usually in the honest version.

Try this this week

Do one thing “the heart way” instead of the “approval way.”

Choose it deliberately and notice how it feels.

Lao Tzu on wisdom

“Knowing others is intelligence; knowing yourself is true wisdom.”

Knowing yourself is not a vague idea. It is practical. It saves time. It saves energy. It stops you copying someone else’s life.

Try this this week

Answer these three questions in a notes app:

What gives me energy

What drains me

What do I want more of

Ella Fitzgerald on persistence

“Just don’t give up trying to do what you really want to do. Where there is love and inspiration, I don’t think you can go wrong.”

Sometimes we overcomplicate it. If there is love and inspiration, you are already pointed in the right direction. Keep going.

Try this this week

Pick one thing you care about and commit to 10 minutes a day.

Not to be impressive. Just to stay close to it.

I am often asked, out of everywhere I have travelled on my Nuffield, where did I see the most potential for dairy

But also, where did I love and where would I recommend.

Sri Lanka 🇱🇰

This is a country that still feels like it is in the early chapters, both in dairy and in tourism. And that is exactly why it has stayed with me.

A few things that really stood out.

First, the structure. A very large share of land is state owned, around four fifths, which shapes everything from investment to scale.

Second, the dairy landscape. It is overwhelmingly smallholder based. In many areas you are looking at households with a couple of cows, often 2 to 5, sometimes edging up a bit, but still small by most standards.

Third, milk itself. Sri Lanka produces roughly 40% of its milk demand domestically, which means there is real reliance on imports and a big opportunity for local growth, productivity, and systems that work for small farms.

And that is where the potential gets exciting.

Because what I saw was not a country lacking effort. It was a country that simply has not had loads of external knowledge exchange in the way some dairy regions have had for decades. That gap creates opportunity. Training. Genetics. Grass and forage systems. Milk hygiene. Cold chain. Co ops. Simple but powerful extension, built for smallholders. Not copying other countries, but accelerating their own version of progress.

Climate wise, it is kind. Warmth and rain are not the problem. Things grow. There is scope to build feed systems that match the climate and make the most of it.

Their big crops are also part of the story. Tea is a major export and a serious part of national income.

Rice is the staple, grown across the country with whole seasons organised around it.

But the bit I will remember most is the people.

When you vote, you get your finger or nail marked with indelible ink to show you have voted.

That tiny detail says so much about how a country runs on community and trust.

My whole trip happened because of a couple of brilliant girls I was put in touch with through a contact on LinkedIn. I used public transport, moved around, and six days felt like a lifetime.

I lost bank cards.

Cash got delivered to me by random friends of friends.

I stayed in management quarters and properly random spots.

And it all worked out, because people were good.

Sri Lanka is evolving. It is not polished. It is not finished.

But that is why I see potential.

One day I will be back for longer.

And I am manifesting a part of my career there. 🇱🇰✨

Not a dramatic moment. No fireworks. Just that quiet shift where you look at the figures and think… right. That does not work like it used to.

For organic, 2022 to 2023 was that feeling on repeat. Costs climbed, demand softened, oversupply built, and milk was sometimes downgraded. It stopped being a theoretical debate about values and became a practical question about survival.

And this is where I want to be honest, because it is the bit that sits behind a lot of the comments people make about organic, conventional, regenerative, whatever label is fashionable that week.

The hard bit is not the label.

The hard bit is living through uncertainty when your decisions take years to pay back and you do not control what the market does next.

Why the crash felt personal

In my report I write that many farmers arrive in organic for financial reasons a premium, conversion support, landlord requirements but over time it becomes how they farm and part of who they are.

That matters, because when the premium shrinks, it does not just hit the bank account.

It hits identity.

It hits motivation.

It hits how you explain your choices to your team, your family, your landlord, and sometimes your own head when you are stood in a yard at 5am wondering if you are making sensible life decisions.

And I think that is why the crash years left a mark even on people who have come out the other side.

The thing that makes organic feel more exposed

One of the toughest headwinds for organic dairy is how tightly it is tied to disposable income.

When confidence is up, shoppers trade up. When budgets tighten, organic is one of the first things to slip, because the premium is visible every week on the shelf.

That is not a judgement on anyone buying food. That is just reality.

But it does mean the sector can feel more volatile. Retail promotions, private label switching, price matching it can widen or narrow that gap overnight. The result is more risk of downgrades in a weak month.

It is why I have stopped pretending the story is only about standards.

Organic lives in a consumer world. And consumer worlds are emotional.

The weird part. The highs came back quickly

This is the bit that surprised me when I pulled together my 2025 farmer survey.

By then, milk prices were at record highs and the milk to feed ratio looked far healthier. The mood had lifted. Confidence was high again.

In the survey, 44% said they were very confident about the future of organic and another 44% were somewhat confident.

That is not nothing.

It shows how quickly sentiment moves in dairying. It also shows that people are not just in this for a number on a spreadsheet. They want it to work. They want to believe there is a future.

But the crash still sits underneath. Like a bruise you do not mention unless someone presses it.

What farmers told me about who they are

One of the most revealing parts of the survey was how farmers described themselves.

Some came in for the numbers and stayed for the values. Some sit more in the practical camp. Some move in and out depending on circumstances.

That spread mattered to me because it explains why organic debates get so heated.

For some, it is a business tool.

For others, it is a worldview.

So when the system struggles, the emotional reaction is different too.

Underneath the pride there were real frustrations mentioned: weather as a double hit on grass and cash flow, certification feeling too complicated and too focused on inputs, worries about grass yields, and the stress that comes every time policy shifts.

Sophie Nuffield.docxedit 1

And yes, subsidies came up. More than two thirds rated them important, which tells you how exposed long term decisions feel when the policy landscape moves.

The bit that travel gave me

Nuffield did not magically fix those realities. But it did give me perspective.

Because when you see organic through other countries, you realise it is not one thing.

In some places, it is mainstream because policy supports it and shoppers trust a clear national label.

In others, it is a niche health and wellness product with a huge price premium and a very different kind of consumer story.

In others, it barely exists as a concept because food security is the priority and the whole national lens is volume and resilience first.

Seeing that range helped me separate two questions that often get tangled up.

Does organic work as a philosophy
And does organic work as a business model in this market, right now

They are not the same question.

The lesson I wrote down for myself

This is where I landed, and it is the sentence I keep coming back to.

Emotion is the why. Numbers must lead the how.

Because it is easy to be values led when the premium is strong.

The real test is whether the system can hold up in the uncomfortable middle years, the years when weather is awkward, costs are high, demand is soft, and you still have to make payroll.

That is why I do not think organic is a one size fits all answer. I think it is a tool that can be brilliant on the right farm in the right market with the right support.

What I want to talk about next week

The crash taught me that farming does not survive on good intentions alone.

It survives on resilience, stability, and systems that help people plan long term.

Next week I want to go into one of the biggest levers I saw abroad: how policy, procurement, and co ops can either steady the ship or rock it even harder and why the wrong policy delivered fast can do real harm.

See you next week 🌱🐄

I have been thinking a lot about success lately.

Not the visible version.

Not the milestones or the headlines or the numbers.

The real version.

The one that, when you strip everything back, comes down to people.

Success is shared.

We are often told the story of the individual.

The one who made it happen.

The one who had the vision.

The one who took the risk.

But when you look closely at any meaningful journey, there is always a long list of names behind it.

The ones who encouraged.

The ones who challenged.

The ones who made introductions.

The ones who gave you a chance before you fully believed in yourself.

Be grateful for the ones who opened doors for you before you even knew they were there.

Some of those doors you only recognise years later.

A conversation that shifted your thinking.

An opportunity you nearly said no to.

Someone who saw potential you had not yet seen.

At the time it feels small.

Later you realise it changed your direction completely.

It is the set of the sails not the direction of the wind that determines which way we will go.

There will always be things outside our control.

Timing.

Circumstances.

Setbacks.

Opinions.

But there is something steady in knowing that our response is still ours.

Our attitude.

Our standards.

Our willingness to learn.

Our decision to keep moving.

Either you run the day or the day runs you.

For me this has become less about productivity and more about presence.

Am I choosing how I spend my time.

Or am I reacting to everything that arrives.

Am I building something.

Or am I just being busy.

The few who do are the envy of the many who only watch.

Not because they are more talented.

Because they begin.

They send the message.

They ask the question.

They put themselves forward.

They try before they feel ready.

If you are not willing to risk the unusual you will have to settle for the ordinary.

Growth always asks for something.

It asks for you to be visible.

To be uncomfortable.

To be new at something again.

It asks you to move before you have the full plan.

The book you do not read will not help.

Learning changes everything.

Not instantly.

Not dramatically.

But slowly and permanently.

It changes how you see the world.

It changes what you believe is possible.

It changes the conversations you have.

And often it introduces you to the people who shape the next chapter.

The right people make the hard days lighter and the good days even better.

This is the part that matters most.

The people who bring calm.

The people who bring energy.

The people who tell you the truth with kindness.

The people who stay.

And the older I get the more I realise that life is a people business.

Some people teach you

Some people back you

Some people grow with you

All of them shape you.

Every stage of life has its people.

The ones who help you start.

The ones who help you continue.

The ones who help you step into something bigger than you thought you could.

And then, if you are lucky, you reach the point where you become that person for someone else.

The challenge of leadership is to be strong but not rude.

Be kind but not weak.

To hold standards and still hold people.

To create environments where others can grow.

Because success that is only yours is very small.

Success that is shared creates something that lasts.

Success is something you attract by the person you become.

Not by chasing.

Not by forcing.

By becoming someone who is consistent.

Curious.

Grateful.

Brave enough to try.

Generous enough to bring others with you.

And when I look back, that is what I see.

Not a series of achievements.

A series of people.

The ones who opened doors.

The ones who walked beside me.

The ones who made the journey meaningful.

It was never just about the goals.

It was always about…

people. 💛

People ask it all the time

Do you think your children will farm

And the honest answer is always the same

I don’t know

I don’t mind

But if they want to I want to have built a business that makes that possible

That feels like the real job

I didn’t grow up on a farm

There was no inherited yard to play in, no childhood spent tagging along at milking, no deep rooted assumption that this life would be mine

So watching my own children grow up with cows as their normal is never lost on me

To them

Standing in gateways watching cows walk past is just something you do

Earning their first money spraying cows in the parlour is standard

Pulling on boots and being one of the team as they get older is completely unremarkable

And I love that

Not because I need them to farm

But because they are growing up understanding work, responsibility, animals, weather, teamwork, and the outdoors without it ever needing to be a lesson

They all connect to the farm differently

Not through a grand speech about agriculture

Through sport, horses, dog walks 🐕, and disappearing outside for hours and coming back muddy and starving

The farm is just the backdrop to a childhood that is active, physical and real

And the cows 🐄 are simply part of life

Like traffic is to a town child

Normal

Constant

Slightly in the way sometimes 😂

There is one small figure who is very rarely far from me, my sidekick

Usually a few steps behind, often in boots far too big, completely at home in a yard full of people and animals

She isn’t there because she has to be

She’s there because she wants to be

And that is the bit that matters

For me, this isn’t about creating the next generation of farmers

It’s about creating choice, confidence, and capability

If they choose a life away from farming, the farm will still have given them something solid

Work ethic

Resilience

Perspective

An understanding of where food comes from

The ability to talk to anyone

The knowledge that early mornings are survivable

And if one of them does want to farm

Then I want them to step into something better than what we started with

Not a struggle for survival

Not a business held together by goodwill and exhaustion

But a business that pays, grows, has a team, has structure, has opportunity

A place they can bring their own ideas, not just inherit ours

Because building a farm when you didn’t come from one changes how you see succession

It stops being about will they take over

And becomes have I built something worth choosing

So when people ask if the children will farm, the answer is still

I don’t know

But they are growing up strong, outdoors, capable, comfortable in their wellies, able to graft, part of a team

With cows as a completely normal part of life

And that feels like a pretty good start, whatever they decide to do

Spring comes, cows calve. The market still has to cope.

Spring comes, cows calve. Grass grows. Milk lifts.

It is not marketing. It is biology.

And every year it reminds me of two things at once. First, British dairy is at its most visible in spring. Second, supply chains and supermarket shelves do not always flex as easily as nature does.

The spring flush is real, in every grazing system

If your cows follow grass, spring brings a lift. That is true for lots of conventional herds too.

In the UK, most people picture dairy as cows grazing in green fields and that perception is not totally wrong, because about half of conventional herds also graze outdoors. To the public eye, conventional and organic can look the same from the road.

That similarity is where the marketing challenge starts.

Because when systems look similar, you cannot rely on a pretty picture of cows in a field to explain what is different. You have to explain the detail in a way that feels simple and relevant, without turning it into a farming culture war.

And for the record, there is no right or wrong system here. Different farms, land types, climates, labour, buildings, and business structures suit different approaches. This is about clarity, not judgement.

Where organic feels this harder

Organic is designed to follow nature more closely. In practice, that often means leaning into grass and seasonality. So while the spring flush happens in many systems, it can hit organic harder.

In my report I put it bluntly:

Seasonality is a pressure point for organic in the UK, even more so than conventional. Many farms calve to match spring grass, and even autumn calvers often lift again at turnout, so the spring flush can be a double whammy.

Then add the big practical snag.

Around 70 to 80% of organic milk is sold as liquid, which has a short shelf life. That makes the peak hard to manage, and some milk gets downgraded when the market cannot absorb it fast enough.

This is not a moral issue. It is a plumbing issue. Product has to go somewhere, quickly, and the UK organic market is still very liquid heavy.

Some processors, like Arla, already run seasonality schemes to encourage production when demand is there, but we need more ideas and more flexibility in the system.

The bit about “cows at grass” that we need to say properly

This is where I want to be really careful with language.

In the UK, plenty of conventional cows go out too. I see it, you see it, and a lot of farmers take real pride in grazing.

The difference is not that conventional never grazes.

The difference is that in organic, grazing and forage are built into the standard. It is not just a management choice. It is part of the framework you are audited against, which is why organic often ends up more tied to seasonal patterns.

That is not better or worse.

It is simply one of the reasons the spring flush becomes such a recurring headache for the organic market.

America made this marketing problem make sense in my head

One of the most useful things Nuffield did for me was show how the same label means different things depending on what “conventional” looks like in that country.

In the United States, the contrast is much more visible.

A key point of difference in the US is that the majority of conventional dairy cows are housed year round on a TMR with little or no grazing, while organic cows must be grazed for a significant portion of the year, making pasture access a core part of the standard.

That visibility makes marketing easier.

Not because one is right and one is wrong, but because the story is simpler for shoppers to understand at a glance.

Back in the UK, where systems can look similar from the outside, organic cannot rely on appearance alone. It needs to make its differences clear and meaningful in a market where conventional standards are already high.

As Robert Craig put it:

“The problem is that we are getting closer as conventional… Where does this put organic?”

It is a fair question. And it is exactly why I keep coming back to clarity, on pack, on shelf, and in plain English.

So what do we do with the spring flush

The solutions are not dramatic. They are practical.

They are about building a supply chain that can cope with what nature delivers, rather than acting surprised every April.

Here are the ideas I pulled through in the report.

1. Promote hard during the flush

If spring is when milk is cheaper to produce and might otherwise be downgraded, spring should be when the sector leans in with confidence.

Not preachy. Not guilt based.

Just seasonal, positive, and honest.

Cows are out (in lots of systems). Grass is growing. Milk is rising. This is the rhythm of British dairy. And if we want the public to understand how farming works, spring is the time to show them while it is happening.

2. Push for sensible flex in drying plants

This one is not glamorous but it matters.

We need practical flexibility so switching to organic powder is quicker and cheaper when peaks hit. Powder is a safety valve. It is an outlet when liquid demand cannot keep up.

3. Make more longer shelf life products in spring

Cheese, yogurt, butter, ice cream, anything that buys time and spreads risk.

The core point is simple: more longer shelf life products in the flush reduces downgrades and reduces the feeling that farmers are doing everything right on farm and still losing control once the milk leaves the gate.

And I do not just mean doing more of the same. I mean being properly inventive with new dairy lines, because the UK consumer world is changing quickly and milk has to stay relevant.

The bigger point

Spring comes, cows calve.

That part is not changing.

So we either keep acting surprised every year when supply rises, or we build a system and a story that cope with the reality of seasonal milk.

And in the UK especially, where conventional and organic can look similar from the outside, the future is going to depend on how well we explain the difference without knocking anyone else’s system.

Clarity. Relevance. No drama.

See you next week 🌱🐄