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Farming is a dirty word now. The women helping farmers navigate a grim uncertain future

by Bella Bathurst.

In a hotel conference room in Shropshire last winter,

a group of people clustered by the coffee machine.

Others were just coming in and doing scarfs and coats, most in branded sweatshirts or fleece. Family scattered and bunched, finding others they knew,

holding their cups awkwardly and sharing out quasongs. Heather Wildman, the host, moved from group to group, making introductions,

an arable contractor to a vineyard manager, a poultry farmer to a cheese maker. The mood was subdued and a little

apprehensive. Everyone stood by the edges of the room watching the food and the

door.

Wildman positioned herself at the front, offered more tea, thanked everyone for taking the time,

knew it was difficult with production schedules and school runs.

She is 50 with a ready open smile.

Her introduction was friendly, practiced, self-deprecating.

She explained what the day would hold,

and made clear she was not from the Ministry,

the Environment Agency or H.MRC,

that she was not an accountant, a lawyer, a snitch or anark.

None of that, she said. I'm a farmer and I help people.

...