A few months ago, I wrote about how I often struggle to come up with the next thing to write about. That familiar battle with the blank page, and wondering whether anyone really wants to hear your ramblings. So, when I found myself doing the inevitable scroll through the internet looking for blog inspiration from someone in the world of farming, food and hospitality, it seemed that all anyone wanted to hear about was Clarkson’s Farm.
And you know what? Fair enough. With Season 4 now out, I sat down last week with Tamara and we binged the lot – all in the name of research, of course. Whenever a new series drops, it quickly becomes the most common question I get asked by friends or people I bump into in the shop: “What do you make of Clarkson’s Farm?”
When the first season landed a few years ago, I thought it was absolutely brilliant. Genuinely. A proper breath of fresh air for an industry that often gets misrepresented or overlooked altogether. Jeremy managed to shine a light on the highs, the lows, and everything in between — from unpredictable prices and chaotic weather to even more unpredictable customer demand for British-grown food.
It felt like the show gave people a much-needed insight into what it actually takes to run a farm. And I, like many others, quickly fell in love with the characters – Caleb, Gerald, Charlie, Alan and now Harriet, to name a few – all of whom I’ve had my own versions of, growing up on our farm. You don’t go through farm life without a few eccentric legends cropping up along the way.
It also did a cracking job of showing how farming today is about so much more than tractors and muddy wellies. There’s diversification, retail, hospitality, conservation – and no, telling someone you “run a farm shop” doesn’t always paint the full picture. Especially 18 years ago, when we first opened ours, and most people pictured a shed with a couple of bags of potatoes in it.
That’s not to say the show didn’t have its fair share of drama. Some of the mishaps and chaos were clearly scripted and choreographed – but then again, who can blame them? It’s telly. And these days, every farm has to diversify to survive. If scripting a few tractor blunders helps draw attention to the real issues, I’ll allow it.
Case in point: the scene where Jeremy lines up every brand of tractor from every agricultural dealer within a 50-mile radius and tests their pickup hitch times. Hilarious, yes. Realistic? Not even slightly. But I will say this – getting a new demo tractor delivered to the farm is always one of the most exciting days of the year. Even if it’s just for a couple of days before they whisk it back again.
One bit I know wasn’t scripted was the chaos surrounding the pub opening. That, I can assure you, was pure, unfiltered hospitality life. The water shortages, power cuts, staff illnesses, dishwashers packing up at exactly the worst time – textbook stuff. I’ve never known an oven to break down on a quiet Tuesday afternoon. No, these things are saved for Friday nights before a bank holiday when you’ve got 80 covers and one chef down. It’s as if the gods of hospitality are toying with us.
Jeremy’s stress levels during the final prep before opening his pub? Yep. I felt that. Took me right back to when we opened our new restaurant in the barn in the summer of 2022. The relentless decisions and constant challenges – and the quiet retreat to a dark office where, just for ten minutes, no one can get to you! We had just a few weeks of trading before the road right outside our gate was shut. Perfect timing, as always. And guess what? It’s happening again this summer. You couldn’t write it. But then again, maybe someone already has.
For all the laughs and frustration, this series also made some really important points. Jeremy talks about how rural communities like ours are slowly becoming commuter villages – places where people leave for work in the morning and don’t see their neighbours for days. The pubs, shops and cafés that used to be the heart of these places gradually disappear, and the people who really need them – the elderly, the isolated – are left even more cut off.
That’s why, I feel, businesses like ours matter. Not just because we sell sausages and sourdough, but because I feel we help keep the village alive. And as the series rightly shows, it’s not easy. The pressures of cost increases, staff shortages, planning red tape, and the latest bright idea from the chancellor are all too real.
But most of us don’t keep going just for the profit. It’s got to be something deeper – purpose, pride, and maybe a bit of bloody-mindedness. A quote from specialist combine driver Simon sums it up perfectly: “If you want to maintain a modicum of sanity, you don’t ask questions you don’t want to hear the answers to. Just concentrate on next year’s potential.” That resilience is tested constantly, and it’s one of our key values as a business. It has to be.
This season wasn’t quite as feel-good as the first. There was more stress, more pressure, and more of the real behind-the-scenes grind of trying to run a hospitality business and a farm at the same time. But weirdly, I found that quite comforting. Because it’s exactly what so many of us are going through – and it reminds me that we’re not alone in the madness.
So yes, Clarkson’s Farm is entertainment. But it’s also a surprisingly accurate lens into what rural life, food, and farming are really like today.
And if it inspires someone to buy British, support their local farm shop, or just pop down to their local pub for a pint and a chat – I reckon it’s done a decent job.