Day in the Life of the Land Girl

Often when I'm working out and about at Newhouse Farm I find myself comparing my current lifestyle to the lifestyle I used to lead in the city, and realising just how starkly different they are. Not that long ago I used to work in a busy office in the centre of London, surrounded by the noise of telephones ringing, keyboards clattering, and the chaotic rumble of the traffic from outside the window. Since I've moved to Cornwall I'm still surrounded by noises, but now when I'm working I hear chickens clucking, ducks quacking, geese honking and wind turbines whirring.

I thought it would be interesting to compare my Newhouse Farm daily routine with the routine I used to lead in London. There's no such thing as a typical day at the farm, as every day is different depending on what project is being undertaken, what time of year it is, or what the weather is like. But for the sake of this comparison I'll use Wednesday 10th June as a typical example.

WEDNESDAY 10TH JUNE
Newhouse Farm: 7:00am Woke up, threw on the nearest clothes and went straight outside to let the animals out. This involves going to each of the animal enclosures and topping up their food and water before opening the door and watching them run outside to start their day of pecking, scratching and swimming. The animals don't seem to suffer from early morning sluggishness like I do. They burst out of their enclosures full of energy and excitement for the day ahead of them, whilst I stand there with just-got-out-of-bed hair and an odd assortment of clothes yawning and yearning for the first coffee of the day. However the perk is that my commute to work now lasts a matter of seconds, as long as it takes me to walk from my bedroom door to the chicken shed.

London: 7:00am Still asleep. I won't need to get up for work until 8am, so why wake earlier?!

Newhouse Farm: 7:45am Entered the kitchen for a mug of coffee from the coffee machine and some toast.

London: 7:45am Still sleeping.

Newhouse Farm: 8:30am Baking shortbread biscuits for a photoshoot that is happening at the farm today. Kneading the dough between my fingers to make sure all the sugar, flour and butter has been beaten together thoroughly. The perk of this particular job is that I get to lick the bowl! No eggs are needed for this recipe, but should I wish I bake something that required them I'd know that today's freshly laid eggs would be on the rack just outside the back door.

London: 8:30am Awake and just about to leave my flat for the commute into work, which will last just under an hour.

Newhouse Farm: 9:30am Arrived at the chicken shed to clean out the chicken poop. After 4 months of living at the farm I've become more than familiar with the many varieties of poo the animals produce. None of it is particularly pleasant, but chicken poop has got to be the worst. It has an acrid ammonia like smell that scorches the inside of my nostrils. Cleaning the chicken shed isn't a quick job. As well as thoroughly sweeping and scrubbing the floor I have to scrape the congealed chicken poop from off the perches and ledges the chickens sleep on.

London: 9:30am Heading out of Tottenham Court Road tube and shortly to arrive at work. Surrounded by the chaos of the morning rush hour: hurrying crowds of people, the noisy building site just outside the tube, the roar of buses, taxis and other traffic as they surge up to the next set of traffic lights on the road. I'll be thankful I've picked up a latte and a croissant from a nearby coffee shop: it's hard to start the day without a morning treat, although it means I'll have already spent nearly a fiver in the coffee shop.

Newhouse Farm: 10:30am The chicken shed looks immaculate. I've spread fresh sawdust on the floor, and put fresh straw in the nest boxes. The chickens have just been let back inside and are inspecting their home. They always seem very curious whenever I clean out their house, pecking at the sawdust and scraping through the straw as if to inspect my handiwork. Already one of the hens has settled down in the nest box and is making the strange noises that indicate she's about to lay an egg. I must've done a good job of the cleaning!

London: 10:30am Sat at my desk sorting through emails and scanning the morning's newspapers for interesting headlines. My desk is positioned facing into the office, which means I've got my back to the window. I'll spend most of the day completely unaware of what the weather is like outside. The air conditioning unit is pumping dry, cool air around the office. The telephones have started to ring.

Newhouse Farm: 11:20am I'm in the duck and goose area, cleaning out the Indian runner duck house. Ducks are messy creatures and have managed to spread their poop not just across the floor of their house, but also up the walls. It's awkward reaching in to clean out the messy straw and poop, so I decide to climb inside in order to clean more easily. All the messy straw is piled into the wheelbarrow which I'll deposit into the compost bins designated for animal poop once I've finished.

London: 11.20am Time for the morning coffee break: instant coffee made in disposable cups because the office I'm working in doesn't have a kitchen area. It's my turn to make the coffee for myself, my boss, and my colleague. Then it's back to sit in front of my computer and make some phone calls.

Newhouse Farm: 12:15pm Now I'm cleaning out the goose house. The female goose is broody and has been sitting on some eggs for several weeks. But it seems that she hasn't done a very good job of incubating, because none of the eggs have hatched. In order to clean out the goose house I firstly need to get rid of the geese. I'm worried this could be a suicidal mission thanks to my previous experiences of being attacked by geese: I'm sure they view me as enemy number 1. I venture tentatively towards the gander armed with a plastic paddle we use for self-defence in the goose area, but he's surprisingly easy to shoo away. Maybe he's had enough of guarding the eggs and needs little encouragement to take a break? Now I turn my attention towards the female goose. She's inside the goose house, sitting on her eggs, hissing like a banshee. I bend down and squeeze inside the goose house, holding the paddle in one hand, and a plastic prong from the electric fence in the other. The female goose leaps off her eggs and runs from side to side, aggressively hissing and fluffing her feathers in malice. After a bit of careful maneuvering and the sound of the goose's beak venomously attacking the plastic paddle, I somehow manage to shoo the female goose out of the goose house without being attacked. This is clearly a miracle (surely I should have been bitten and scratched by now?) and I position the wheelbarrow in front of goose house door as a barricade to thwart any further goose attacks as I get on with the business of cleaning.

London: 12.15pm Sitting at my computer, editing a treatment for a television idea that is to do with moving to the countryside. I wonder what it would be like to move to the countryside myself.

Newhouse Farm: 12:50pm Finished cleaning out the goose house - possibly one of the most revolting jobs I've had to do so far at the farm. Some of the eggs the goose had been incubating had cracked and leaked their rotten contents all over the other eggs, the straw and the floor of the goose house before drying into congealed nastiness. Not only have I had to clean up all the dirty straw and stinking goose poop, but I've had to scrape clean all the eggy unplesantness as well. The smell is overwhelming and absolutely hideous, but it had to be done. Just as I'm spreading clean straw around the goose house I hear the distant cry of "LUNCH!"

Newhouse Farm: 1:15pm Eating homemade soup, sat in front of the farmhouse table that's spread with fresh bread, huge wedges of Cornish cheese, salad from the garden, ham from the local butchers, and James' aunt Linda's chutney. Lunch time is when everyone has a chance to catch up with each other. Steve is regaling us with his opinions on vegetarians (he thinks it's all a conspiracy, but then again Steve thinks everything is a conspiracy).

London: 1:15pm Walking back from Marks and Spencers with my vegetarian takeaway lunch. I keep meaning to make my own lunch to save money, but I never seem to leave enough time in the morning to do it. As the weather is pleasant I'll sit and each my lunch on a bench in the local square, enjoying a few scarce minutes of sunshine. However if the weather was bad I'd be eating my lunch in front of my computer screen, chatting to my colleagues.

Newhouse Farm: 3:00pm I'm in the midst of a dense brambly patch, bashing the life out of some particularly dense brambles and gigantic nettles. A large section of these brambles that runs along the side of the chicken area needs to be cleared. We suspect that the hens may have been laying their eggs in here, plus the brambles provide cover for foxes and rats that could prey on the hens. I've got my gloves on and am hacking away with a pair of shears, little by little making my way through the wall of brambles. It's hot work, my arms are getting scratched, and I've just been stung in the head by a nettle. I stand up to stretch my back and notice a chicken jumping onto a gap between the wood-shed and the wire fence. The chicken jumps through the gap and I realise I now know how the chickens have been able to escape and scratch around in the vegetable patches. Over in the goose area I see the gander and female goose walking side by side. I swear they look relieved that they're not having to sit on those stinking eggs anymore!

London: 3:00pm Still sat by my computer, but now brainstorming a new television gameshow idea with my boss and another member of my team. Brainstorming involves bouncing ideas off each other, evolving the idea, until we've come to a point where one of us can write the idea up into a treatment.

Newhouse Farm: 5:00pm It's just started to rain heavily and I'm being called to finish work and come inside. The commute home from work involves putting my tools inside the potting shed, kicking off my wellies and putting them in the wellie rack by the back door, and walking into the living room. Tonight we'll all be gathered round the television as a rugby match is on: the British Lions vs the Sharks. James and I are about to crack open the non-alcoholic beers as we're not drinking at the moment.

London: 6:30pm I've just finished work and am heading towards the bus stop to begin my commute home. I've developed the habit of travelling to work in the morning by tube, and from work in the evening by bus, when I find it interesting to unwind and stare out the window. About an hour from now I should be arriving home.

Newhouse Farm: 9:00pm We've just finished dinner and now it's time to put the animals away. We go round each of the animal houses, escorting the ducks, geese and unruly chicks to their beds before shutting the door to secure them inside. The chickens are very obedient and are already sitting on their perches, the positioning of the hens next to William the cockerel indicating their place in the pecking order. The goslings on the other hand are very disobedient and give us the run around. Like a bunch of unruly teenagers they refuse to go to bed, and it involves several trips around the goose house before they finally walk inside their house and we can shut the door.

London: 9:30pm I've just finished my dinner and am popping out to the local pub to meet up with a friend for an hour or two's nattering. No doubt we'll get through a few of glasses of wine to help lubricate our conversation.

Newhouse Farm: 10:00pm It's been a long day so I'm off to bed. There's still plenty of bramble bashing to do tomorrow!

London: 12:00am Bedtime. Another day in the office tomorrow!